


One Wild and Precious Life

by syrupfactory



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Space Opera, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Doctor/Patient, Forced Prostitution, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:20:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29074722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrupfactory/pseuds/syrupfactory
Summary: After living only on planets, Dr. Azi Fell is eager to begin a new life and career in space. Eden Station doesn’t have the best reputation, but he couldn’t be more excited to be there. On his first day at the infirmary, he meets Anthony Crowley, a patient with gorgeous auburn hair and fascinating tattoos, who oddly refuses pain meds. Anthony quickly turns out to be Azi’s most frequent recurring patient, and the more Azi learns about him, the more questions he has.For Anthony's part, it's been a long time since he felt like he had a true friend. But when he finds himself looking forward to his appointments with Azi, he knows he has to tread carefully. He's in no position to get too close to anyone, lest they get tangled up in the mess created by his past mistakes.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 108
Kudos: 111





	1. Eden

_**“Tell me, what are you going to do with your one wild and precious life?”** _

**_—Mary Oliver_ **

It is a truth galactically acknowledged that Eden Station is a shithole.

No one wants to be on Eden any longer than they have to be—indeed, most individuals arriving there on any given day are merely passing through.

But as Dr. Aziraph “Azi” Fell steps inside for the first time, he sees it differently. This place, with its rusting metal poles and stacked flats and crowded footpaths, is to be his home. And with it comes a new beginning. He takes a moment to admire it, this odd city floating in space. One of the oldest human-made stations, in fact, and the type of place he’d never dreamed of seeing with his own eyes in his youth. Even with the grimy streets and dilapidated structures, it’s beautiful to him—so many people, from so many different worlds, from all corners of the galaxy, peacefully coexisting.

And, perhaps, mutually united on a single issue.

“Yep, still reeks,” a tall person with pale green skin mutters as they pass by.

It’s in this moment that someone else collides with Azi from behind, slamming into him with surprising force. He turns to see them scrambling to pick up two dropped bags and stoops to help.

“Fucking hell,” the person—this one a fellow human—says with exasperation, snatching the second bag from Azi’s hand. “Are you just _standing_ there?”

As they go their separate ways, Azi takes a moment to hope the rest of the person’s day improves, and sets off to find his new flat and drop off his bags.

After freshening up from his trip, Azi sets out to his second destination: Infirmary 4H, which refers to the human infirmary within the fourth hospital on the station. He could take a train, which would zip him there in just a few minutes from his flat, but he decides to make the walk—he’s not due there for a couple hours, and he’d like to see more of the station, anyway.

The way there turns out to be a masterclass of sights, sounds, and smells, as he passes first through a residential block, then through a dingy and damp market square, and on to an elevator that will take him to the correct level. As he goes, he feels as though he’s smiling too much—no one else is, certainly—but it’s impossible to stop. He’s far too excited.

When he arrives at the infirmary, with its large clear doors, he heads toward the reception desk, where a nurse scans his wrist chip.

“Dr. Fell, welcome,” she says, “the director is waiting for you in his office, if you’ll follow me.”

As they walk, he takes stalk of the infirmary. It’s the smallest one on the station, and in a somewhat removed location, but it appears clean and well-kept. He’ll be proud to serve as Head Physician here, for the first time in his career, and he can’t imagine feeling any other way.

The Director of Human Health, who oversees all human infirmaries on the station, is the person Azi is meeting today, and his name turns out to be Dr. Archibald Gabriel. He might have been imposing once with his broad stature, Azi reflects, but now, he appears mostly tired.

“I wanted to come down and personally meet you,” Dr. Gabriel is saying. “And to find out if there’s anything you need from me. I understand this is all new to you.”

“Indeed. And it’s much appreciated, but I think I’ll get along just fine. I’m eager to get started.”

Dr. Gabriel raises his eyebrows at that. “Hopefully this station won’t dull your energy… To be honest, I’m surprised you’re here. Actually. Ah, heck. Can I ask you a personal question?”

“I welcome it.”

“ _Why_ are you here? I mean, don’t get me wrong, we’re grateful that you’re filling this opening. But you’re way over-qualified with all those recommendations … You could have your pick of stations. Why did you choose to come to Eden?”

Azi takes a moment to consider the question. He did, in fact, have several offers lined up now that he’d completed his residency at a hospital on Alruna, a planet in the core worlds. And he could have easily hopped to another planet and found a cozy practice and a flat with a nice view. But he’d long craved adventure. He’d always wanted to travel through the stars, to make a home in space, to see the way people lived out here.

“It seemed like a place where I could do a lot of good,” he responds simply. “I want to help as many people as possible. But that’s what we all want, isn’t it?”

He enjoys the subtle way Dr. Gabriel squirms in his chair at the question.

“Absolutely,” he agrees, with the same quick eyebrow raise. “Well, it’s good to meet you. And again, thank you for swooping in and saving my ass. I thought this position might take months to fill; I wasn’t sure how we’d keep it operating in the meantime.”

“Heavens,” Azi remarks in genuine surprise, “I didn’t realize. In that case, I’m _certain_ I’ve made the right decision.”

After the meeting, Azi changes into his new uniform, constructed of plain white fabric and very basic looking compared to what he’s worn previously, but honorable nonetheless. There’s no need for a doctor’s dress to be anything other than practical, anyhow.

His first day in the new role brings in an array of patients: there’s a child who crashed a motorbike and needs a fibula repaired, the elderly person with joint pain, the shopkeeper with an odd cough, and so on. As the patients come and go, Azi starts to get a feel for this neighborhood—or zone—of the station, and the way its residents live and work.

The very last patient of his shift turns out to be the most memorable.

Azi steps into the exam room, having been advised of a wrist fracture and preparing for a swift and straightforward healing, when he’s struck by the sight of the patient before him. He has the prettiest auburn hair Azi has ever seen—half swept up and half flowing over his shoulders in loose curls. He’s tall and lanky with sharp facial features, and pale enough that the dark bruises on his face and arms stand in stark contrast to his skin. His left arm is covered in artwork, fully visible since he’s wearing a sleeveless top.

“Hello,” Azi starts, remembering himself. “I’m Dr. Fell. You’re Anthony, correct?”

He nods, eyes a bit glassy and tired. “It’s just my wrist.”

“Ah,” Azi says, sensing that this patient isn’t interested in small talk. “Let’s have a look, then.”

Using his tablet scanner, he’s able to take a quick x-ray and 3D render of the wrist and hand, where he zooms in on the fracture.

“Oof,” he remarks. “That didn’t feel good. But fortunately, it’s a fairly easy fix. Let’s just get you some meds for the pain first.”

“Oh, no,” Anthony says, apparently uncomfortable. “I can’t have those. The meds, I mean.”

“Oh? Do you have an allergy?”

Azi knows no such warning was given in Anthony’s chart, so he prepares to make a mental note to add one.

“No,” Anthony says, glancing down, his voice soft. “Not exactly.”

“Ah,” Azi responds, not wanting to press too hard. “Well, I’m sorry to say the procedure is highly unpleasant without them. If you change your mind, do let me know.”

That gets him a soft nod.

Azi then readies the healing lamp—a charmingly simplistic term for a device that noninvasively repairs certain cellular structures from outside, which also gives off a subtle purple glow while it works, giving the appearance of a lamp over the skin—precisely calibrating it to the correct tissue and level of injury, then setting it in place on Anthony’s wrist. Given Anthony’s refusal of pain meds and the fact that no other patients are currently waiting, Azi decides it best to keep him company while the machine goes to work.

He pulls over a rolling chair and sits beside Anthony’s bed, a bit surprised that he hasn’t even winced now that the treatment has started.

A tattoo of a black bird on Anthony’s shoulder catches Azi’s eye, as it suddenly flaps its wings twice before going still again. Below there, a serpent is coiled around his bicep, and lower still, there’s an asterism, and so on, all the way down his arm.

“What incredibly lovely work,” he says. “And such a fascinating assortment.”

“Oh, thanks,” Anthony says, looking a bit puzzled, “I like to get one for every station I visit.”

“Heavens and stars above! That’s so many! What an adventurous life. I greatly admire you for it.”

For the first time since they met, Anthony smiles.

“How long have you been here, on Eden?” he asks.

“Oh, I just arrived today, in fact.”

“Ah. Welcome to paradise.”

Azi laughs at that, delighted to meet someone else with knowledge of the origins of the name.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly. “Would you believe it’s my _first time_ on a station at all?”

Anthony looks at him with genuine astonishment at that, and then the healing lamp beeps to signal completion. Azi removes it from his wrist and sets it aside, then rescans the area.

“Good as new!” he says, triumphant. “Well, Anthony, is there anything else I can do for you today?”

He shakes his head.

“Then I bid you farewell on your travels. I’m very glad to have met you. Oh!”

Azi turns, then, to one of the cabinets in the room, palm scans for access and then retrieves a small tube of ointment.

“Take this for the bruising. It’ll speed up the healing and numb the tenderness. It’s mild enough that you can’t overuse it.”

Anthony is giving him an odd look, perhaps of amusement, but he accepts the tube. “Thanks. It was … nice to meet you, too.”

That night, back in his flat, Azi reflects on the patients he met on his first day as head physician, and feels optimistic about embarking on this new chapter of his life. No two days will be the same, certainly, and that’s part of the joy of it, the endless stream of fascinating individuals living their lives, who just need to be patched up now and then so they can get on with what matters to them.

His thoughts keep drifting back to Anthony, a beautiful free spirit, and someone whose path could never have crossed with Azi’s had he not decided to come out here. In fact, had he not arrived today, perhaps they would have missed each other completely.

He’s dearly glad that wasn’t the case, and grateful to have met him, if only this once. A small part of him hopes to see Anthony again sometime, but that feels like a silly thought in such a big galaxy.

***

Only two days later, however, Azi gets his wish: Anthony is back in the infirmary.

Azi does a double-take when he sees the patient name and status on his tablet—not only for the familiar name, but for the worst injury he’s seen all day: Two broken ribs.

Hurrying into the room, he finds Anthony in far worse condition than last time, understandably. He’s lying in the bed with his arms around his shirtless torso, drawing in ragged breaths and whining from the pain.

“Oh no, you poor dear! Let’s have a look. Can you raise your arms away from your side for me?”

Anthony does as instructed, and Azi is shocked by the extent of dark bruising around the injury site. It looks several hours old, and he wonders why Anthony would wait so long to come in, but that’s not an important question at this moment. He springs into action, getting a scan, and then reaching for an analgesic adhesive—he’d personally ordered some after Anthony’s last appointment, to be better prepared for similar scenarios.

“This is for pain relief,” he explains. “Let’s get you more comfortable.”

“No,” Anthony says, shaking his head, brow furrowed. “I can’t have that.”

“This one is perfectly safe, I can assure you.”

Bafflingly, Anthony just shakes his head again. “It’s against the rules.”

“What?” Azi asks, increasingly bewildered. “What _rules_?”

“Didn’t they tell you?” Anthony asks through his teeth, frustrated. “Prostitutes can’t _have_ pain meds.”

Azi is deeply troubled by that statement, but his first priority is helping his patient.

“Is that the only reason you’ve refused two pain medications?”

Anthony nods, and Azi discards the adhesive and takes up a syringe of the much more effective universal pain med.

“Well, no one has informed me of any such rule, so with your consent, I’d like to give you two doses of CN35, as your condition clearly warrants.”

Anthony looks concerned. “I don’t want to get you in any trouble. Dr. Hastur would never let me have any… too wasteful.”

Once again, Azi disguises the sheer disgust and rage he feels at this information.

“Listen to me. You’re my patient, now. I don’t care what Dr. Hastur told you, and I have no intention of ever following such an absurd rule, as it goes against every ethical principle I uphold. With your consent, I’ll give you a double dose of CN35, and we’ll both feel much better.”

At that, Anthony nods, eyes glistening a bit. “Alright.”

Using the syringe, he takes Anthony’s arm and stamps his skin twice, releasing the drug into his system and watching as the tension melts away from his posture and his furrowed brow. He lets out a soft whimper of relief as he fully reclines into the bed.

“Thank you,” he says, breathing more easily. “I really hope you don’t get any shit for that.”

“Don’t you dare worry about me,” Azi instructs. “Just relax while I get you patched up. You’re going to be just fine.”

The healing lamp for the broken ribs takes far longer than the previous appointment, but thanks to the medication, Anthony is able to fall asleep for most of this one. While he’s out, Azi takes some time to go over his medical file, and though he finds no notes about his profession nor any limitation on treatments, there is a “status” indicator he didn’t pay attention to before: Low Priority.

Finding a nurse in the hallway, he asks what time Anthony arrived and gets “this morning, as usual” as the clipped answer. His heart sinks to think that Anthony waited several hours to see him with such a painful injury. Before the nurse goes, Azi requests Anthony’s appointment history.

Anthony’s comment about Dr. Hastur made Azi wonder about how long he’d been on Eden, and when the appointment log arrives on his tablet moments later, he’s stunned to see that it dates back two years—and that he’s looking at _hundreds_ of appointments. 

As the pieces fall into place, Azi has a clearer picture of this patient and his relationship with this infirmary. He’s familiar with prostiution as a concept, wherein humans accept money from aliens in exchange for sexual acts, but he’s never met anyone engaged in the work. It’s a high-risk profession, to be sure, in contrast to the sex workers who operate out of sanctioned and well-respected pleasure centers. Humans who allow aliens to treat them like toys, with no rules or limits, are very widely regarded as unethical, greedy, and even repulsive. Not only are prostitutes perceived to be sullying the reputation of sex workers, but of all humans, when they’ve spent decades fighting for more respect within the galaxy. Azi has always found it unimaginable that anyone would willingly choose that line of work, when so many other avenues exist.

And yet, here’s Anthony, who has apparently been selling himself on Eden for at least two years now. The thought of it brings up only sympathy. Azi simply refuses to judge this patient in any way due to a situation Azi can’t possibly understand, perhaps out of personal intuition as much as doctoral ethics. What does disgust him, however, is the notion that the previous doctor in his own position had repeatedly refused to administer pain medication to an injured patient. Heaven above, what inexcusable sadism and a gross abuse of power. It should never matter _why_ a patient has ended up in one’s care, and a doctor who tortured patients by withholding necessary meds was no true physician at all.

Azi has never been one to believe in fate, but he appreciates the concept of it. And if anything like fate does exist in the universe, then it has to be his fate to end up right here, he reflects, as he switches Anthony’s status to High Priority and sets his tablet aside.

Anthony is awake when Azi removes the healing lamp and rescans his ribs.

“Ah, good as new. You’re all set, but you’re welcome to rest a while. Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

Anthony shakes his head at that. “I feel a lot better than I have in a long time. I appreciate your help.”

“I’m glad I was able to help you. Take care, now… And do be careful out there.”

After they’ve parted ways once again, Azi feels a bit selfishly happy to think that Anthony will probably be a regular patient. He’s glad that he gets to be his doctor, now, and give him the proper unbiased care he’s deserved all along.

***

The following week, Anthony stumbles into his flat in the early hours of the morning, as usual on one his work nights, and sinks rapidly into a chair. He’s sore all over and the walk back was exceptionally unpleasant thanks to a throbbing ankle, which means he’s going back to the infirmary today. But first, this moment of rest. And then bathing. Always bathing, especially before he spends several hours sitting in the infirmary waiting room, hurting and tired, but at least clean.

Before the shower, he takes a moment to pull up his finance account on his tablet, which bears an impressive-looking number since he was just paid. But with a few taps, a majority of the funds are transferred to a secure account where he’ll never see them again, and his own share is back to being dismal. In the process, he glances at the remaining debt he still owes, and the number always seems absurd—like an impossible joke. But after two years on Eden, he _has_ made a dent, and if he can just survive three more years of this and get it paid off in full, he’ll be free.

When he’s dry and dressed, Anthony finds that he actually likes the thought of seeing Dr. Fell again, so that’s a brand new emotion about going to the infirmary. He knows better than to start liking him too much, though, since no one that kind could possibly remain on Eden long.

The station is beginning its daylight cycle as he makes his way to the infirmary, stopping for a breakfast sandwich to eat when he gets there, since being hungry only makes the waiting worse. Checking in at the infirmary, the nurse scans his ID chip as usual, but then she does a double-take.

“Oh,” she says, apparently surprised by something. “Follow me right this way.”

“Wh— what?” he asks, but she’s already walking, and he follows, perplexed.

Alone in an exam room moments later, he’s deeply confused, and he’s only taken two bites of the sandwich when Dr. Fell appears with his signature warm smile. Anthony is still getting used to his demeanor—the doctor appears to be nearing middle age like himself, but his positive energy makes him seem much younger. The opposite of Dr. Hastur in every possible way.

“Ah, good morning, Anthony! I hear it's your ankle today? Oh, do feel free to finish your breakfast while I have a look at it!”

As the doctor scans his ankle and Anthony awkwardly chews, things start to add up in his mind. It seems Dr. Fell must have given him some kind of special clearance in the system after his previous appointment. The thought is both touching and nerve-wracking. Dr. Fell has never lived on a station before, as he said himself. That means he’s from a planet, and like most grounders, a little naive about galactic society. And he probably doesn’t understand that he’s being _way_ too nice to a _hooker_.

After he gets more pain meds, though, Anthony is too tired to think anymore, and he drifts into a light sleep while the healing lap goes to work.

He wakes up sometime later when Dr. Fell is removing the lamp and rescanning.

“Good as new,” he says like usual. “Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

Anthony shakes his head and shifts to sit upright. “That’s all, thank you. But … listen.”

Dr. Fell raises his eyebrows and waits.

Anthony swallows. “I know you’re new here, and you’ve only started in this job, and I’d really hate to mess anything up for you. I can promise that you really don’t want to be associated with me around here, in any way, and that includes this urgent treatment you’re giving me. I have a terrible reputation because of the work I do, but it’s my only option for now. You seem really nice—too nice, to be honest, and I’d hate for you to get sacked because of me.”

Dr. Fell listens to all this with an expression Anthony can’t read.

“I appreciate your honesty,” he says, “but your concerns are misplaced. To be completely honest with you in return, I am deeply troubled by the way your previous doctor treated you. As long as you’re my patient, I will give you the best possible care I can manage, nothing less. Whatever you’re doing when you’re not in one of these beds isn’t my business, and _reputation_ is not something I’m even remotely preoccupied with—beyond the opinions of my patients themselves.”

Anthony isn’t sure how to respond to all that.

“Alright,” he says with a slight chuckle, “but if this blows up in your face, I did try to warn you.”

“You certainly did, and I admire your candor.” Dr. Fell spares an odd glance to the side and then goes on in a lower voice. “Just between us, the director was very concerned about filling this role quickly enough. So, I’m not too worried about my job security, either.”

He punctuates that sentence with a wink, and Anthony feels a bit like he has drifted into an alternate cartoon dimension.

When he leaves the infirmary after such a short visit, it feels strange to think he still has a full day ahead of him. He could do _anything_ , he thinks as he passes over a bridge on the way back to his flat. He could go _anywhere_ , he reasons, as he takes the lift. A whole day of _freedom_ , he thinks, as he removes his shoes. So many _possibilities_ , he muses, as he crawls into bed, swaddles himself in blankets, and promptly passes out.

***


	2. The Garden

One month into life on Eden, Anthony has become firmly established as Azi’s most frequent recurring patient. Secretly delighted by this, Azi is _determined_ to make his appointments as pleasant as possible through fun conversation.

“I never did get around to asking you,” Azi says one day while the healing lamp is repairing a knee sprain, “if you have a tattoo for _this_ station.”

Anthony nods. “Yeah, it’s this one.” He turns his arm and points to the space behind his elbow, where there’s a small plant bearing fruit.

“Ah, is that an olive branch?”

Anthony nods again. “Good eye. The farming level here is one of the only pleasant parts, so I figured … why not?”

“Oh, I’ve not been to the farming level! I’ll have to make a point to see it.”

“I’ve actually never been on a planet, myself,” Anthony adds. “So I might be a bit easily impressed by it.”

Azi is inwardly happy about how much more open Anthony has been today. The healing lap on his knee beeps and Azi turns to remove it and re-scan.

“If you ask me, there’s nothing short of extraordinary about humans building cities in space and setting aside special room for growing food that would only naturally arise under a specific atmosphere. And, as for your knee, it’s good as new! Anything else today?”

Anthony shakes his head. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

“You know,” Anthony says as he gets up to leave, “If you really like that concept, you might enjoy the novel _A Home Made of Stardust_ by Rosemary Chambers, it’s—”

“Stars, yes! I’m very fond of it.”

“Really?” Anthony smiles in surprise.

“Absolutely. What a beautiful work and a testament to the explorer spirit. I like her optimistic approach for the future of species integration, in particular.”

Anthony smiles and nods. “Yeah, it’s never left me.”

“Now, do you know _Everywhere Eventually_ by Andyra Velmar?”

“I don’t know that one.”

“Hmm. Maybe give it a try. I have a hunch.”

“I will,” Anthony says. “Thank you, again.”

After he’s gone, Azi can’t stop smiling about their chat all day, particularly since Anthony took the initiative in suggesting a book to him—and one of his own favorites from his time in university, no less. He decides to make it a point to visit the farming level on his upcoming weekly day off, and he’s already looking forward to Anthony’s thoughts on the book.

Perhaps it’s not too hopeful to think this could be the beginning of a friendship.

***

On his next day off from work, Azi views the station map on his comm and then makes his way up to the farming level. The full zone is apparently open to the public, but for viewing only in the growing and harvest areas—there’s also a market that sells the freshest produce on the station, so it’s a crowded train ride.

When he steps off the train onto the platform, the first thing Azi notices is the scent of the air. It’s not like the air on the lower levels of the station. It smells almost like stepping off a train on a planet. It smells _green_.

Following a path toward the entrance of the growing section, the smell only grows stronger, and then Azi steps into a strange little oasis, with dozens of towers of leafy greens, and producers milling about on floating platforms that rise and fall to any level they need. The equipment looks worn, he can plainly see, and the structures are patched up in many places, but the crops look well-kept and the people are clearly very dedicated to their work. At once, he’s deeply grateful to Anthony for recommending that he visit this place.

Wandering through the winding visitor path through the growing field, he comes upon a cluster of children listening to an instructor and stops to observe their lesson—they’re identifying the plants and naming examples of food dishes that use them, as well as the nutrients they provide.

“A long time ago,” their instructor explains, “these plants would have only grown on Earth. But when our ancestors left that planet, they made sure to bring them all along, so that they could stay healthy in their new life in space. Now, we’ve perfected the technologies and methods needed to help these plants propagate without a natural sun, so we can survive anywhere in the galaxy.”

Azi marvels for a moment, fascinated, as the lesson is in stark contrast to his own childhood education. He certainly never consumed fresh plants back then—it was all protein packs and liquid meals. And there was little time for learning history when his instructors had been preoccupied with combat strategy. The desolate planet where he grew up certainly bore no resemblance to the lush, ancient Earth this teacher describes.

He shakes off the memory, moving on and passing around them with a polite nod.

He can see why Anthony likes to visit this place—somewhat oddly, Azi finds that knowing Anthony has also seen it enriches the experience of visiting. But perhaps it’s simply because this is the first personal recommendation Azi has received on Eden.

On his way home, Azi is lost in thoughts of history and plants and planets—and Anthony, of course. He’s already looking forward to the next time he sees him, so that he can tell him about visiting the farming level. He wonders, too, if Anthony sought out the book he recommended after all.

Azi smiles to himself, partly in amusement. He’s never been so eager to see a friend before. But he’s known from the start that Anthony was someone special, and he still feels very fortunate to have met him.

***

_Question: What kind of fucking idiot has a **crush** on their **doctor**?_

_This kind of idiot_ , Anthony asks and answers in his mind as he downloads yet another book recommendation from the station archive. Because if Dr. Fell suggested it, he’s going to read it immediately so that they can discuss it at his next appointment. It’s become a habit, now, for them to suggest things to each other—first the farming level a few weeks back, which Azi greatly enjoyed and spoke of at length, and Anthony has since recommended a couple films that Azi viewed promptly.

Anthony’s infirmary appointments, once a source of ever-present dread, have now become the highlight of his life on Eden. Because he’s clearly a fucking idiot.

_He’s a doctor! He’s nice to me because I’m a patient! He’s equally nice to everyone else, certainly!_

Several points are made.

_He **also** has a beautiful smile and great taste in fiction and is possibly the kindest person I’ve ever met. _

Additional, and undeniably true, points.

_Follow-up question: Why am I like this?_

The mystery goes unsolved.

Then again, perhaps it tracks that Anthony has “imprinted” on Dr. Fell in this way, since it’s not like he’s close to anyone else on this station. Life on Eden has led him to develop a new passion for reading and watching films and serials in his free time, but it’s been a long time since he’s had someone else to discuss them with.

So that part is all well and good, but why does he keep feeling giddy when he thinks of him?

_Fucking idiot._

Even if Dr. Fell were to say something truly absurd—deeply, comically absurd—such as, “Anthony, you’re my favorite patient/hooker, please accompany me to the cinema, because I certainly haven’t seen you _enough_ already,” EVEN THEN, it’s not like Anthony could accept knowing the risk that would be for his doctor/friend/crush. Eden is simply too small, and the chances of someone important seeing them together are too great.

This station will certainly do its best to snuff out the warmth in Dr. Fell, and Anthony isn’t going to speed that along. What he _can_ do, though, is read, and talk to him about stories, and look forward to infirmary trips more than he ever has before.

After losing several hours of the day to the book, which is just as engrossing as the last one Dr. Fell recommended, Anthony feels a bit restless and hungry and decides to go out and find some dinner and hopefully occupy his mind with something other than a thoroughly hopeless crush.

The second wish does not come true, however, since as he’s making his way back home, he spots a familiar blond head across the road and stops in his tracks.

It does make sense that he’d bump into Dr. Fell eventually, given that they’re in the same zone. As much as Anthony would like to approach him, he takes a few steps back to avoid being spotted. Dr. Fell is dressed casually and he’s conversing with an older man who runs a repair shop. From the way they’re getting on, Anthony suspects the man is a fellow patient, and he seems to be earnestly thanking Dr. Fell for something.

_He’s nice to everyone_ , Anthony repeats in his mind.

Just then, there’s a loud bang, and Anthony’s gaze snaps over to where a young boy has crashed his motorbike into the base of a metal pole—the pole wavers, then, and people scramble to get out of its path. Falling structures are common enough on Eden that no one is shocked, but they certainly don’t want to be flattened.

Anthony looks quickly back at Dr. Fell, only to find him moving toward the pole, gaze upturned and hands at the ready. Is he completely mad?

“Stop!” Anthony says, starting forward, his voice lost to the crowd.

Just then, Dr. Fell catches the pole. Anthony watches in growing disbelief as he holds it steady with ease, then guides it down, so that it settles to the floor with a heavy tap instead of a crash.

Looking around to see if anyone else is as bewildered as he is, Anthony only finds people going back to their original business, milling about as if nothing out of the ordinary just happened. Perhaps the pole wasn’t as heavy as he imagined, after wearing down with age. That doesn’t seem likely, but how else could a single person support it?

Glancing back at Dr. Fell, it takes Anthony a moment to spot him, but his hair gives him away: He’s crouched down and speaking to the boy who crashed his bike, taking a look at the scrapes on his face and arm and then sending him off with a pat on the shoulder.

Anthony moves on then, feeling as though he’s observed him for an oddly long time already, but still deeply confused by what transpired. The body modifications required to make such a feat possible, let alone simple, have long been illegal across the galaxy. In the end, though, he’s just glad Dr. Fell is alright.

Even if he, perhaps, has some secrets.

***

Much time passes before Anthony needs to visit the infirmary again, and when he does, he finds that the incident on the street fades from his mind as soon as he sees Azi’s warm smile and they fall into normal conversation. Azi is clearly not preoccupied by what happened, and so there’s no reason to dwell on it.

“I’m so glad you recommended _Zephyr Chronicles_ ,” Azi says, referring to a popular serial as he gets a healing lamp set up on Anthony’s knee. “I must admit it’s become something of an addiction—I look forward to it when I get home each evening.”

Anthony nods at that. “Yeah, that one’s fun. Just wait, though. It keeps getting better.”

“Ah, that’s good to hear!” Azi says with a fond smile. “Well, I do wish I could stay here and talk to you through the full treatment today, but unfortunately, there are several others waiting.”

“Oh, I completely understand! I’m fine here.”

“Good. I’ll be back shortly.”

With that, Anthony is alone in the room. It seems almost impossible to think that warm, sweet, kind Dr. Fell would be hiding any big secrets about his past—or his abilities. Anthony has rarely met anyone so _gentle_. Then again, he knows very little about the doctor’s life before Eden, so perhaps anything is possible.

The thought draws up an odd desire in him. He dearly wishes he _could_ know more about Dr. Fell, wishes that they could become friendly and spend time together outside of his appointments. But that’s a foolish wish, for so many reasons.

His lamp beeps and shuts off a short time later, and then Dr. Fell reappears. Anthony is saddened to think their brief time together is nearly concluded.

“Ah, good as new!” he says upon rescanning. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Anthony answers, snapping back to reality. “I’m perfectly well. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he responds, smiling and touching Anthony’s arm. “See you next time—but hopefully not too soon, now. Be careful out there.”

“‘Course,” Anthony says. “Not _too_ soon. See you then.”

***


	3. Parasite

Perhaps one of the only benefits of the cold, chaotic world where Azi grew up is that he’s now well-prepared for disaster. There is hardly a medical crisis that can compare to the endless warfare he witnessed in his youth, and as a soldier, he was conditioned to focus on a single task under any circumstances.

So, three months into his time on Eden, when the infirmary ER is suddenly overflowing with burn victims after an explosion on the engineering level, he springs into action without hesitation: First, he requests that the doctor who normally covers the night shift be called in to assist. Second, he attends to the patients with the most severe injuries, instructing nurses to alert him to any patients whose conditions become urgent.

The patients here are in better shape than those that were transferred to larger infirmaries, so working in tandem with the second physician, they’re able to care for all patients within about five hours. Azi makes a point to return to each one, to personally recess their healing and ensure they’re receiving proper pain meds. There’s something beautiful to it, he thinks, this way they’re all working so hard to _help_ and to _heal_ as efficiently as possible.

Late into the night, at a time when his own shift would normally have ended, he’s between patients when a nurse stops him, looking awfully frazzled.

“What is it?” he asks.

“A high-priority patient arrived in critical condition about twenty minutes ago. There’s no room here, so he’s upstairs.”

That information creates an odd crack in Azi’s calm. He’s only set one patient to High Priority, but perhaps there are others from before he started here.

“What’s the condition? And the name of the patient?”

“It’s Anthony Crowley, sir, and he’s in with severe abdominal pain and bleeding from—”

“Good heavens, has someone scanned him?”

“We wanted to get your approv—”

“Get me scans at once. I’ll be up as soon as I can.”

“Yes, doctor,” he agrees, hurrying away.

Quickly taking stock of the ER floor, Azi reconfirms that all patients are stable and puts his assistant physician in charge. With that, he’s making his way up to the next floor to find his friend, hoping beyond hope that he’s not too late.

He knows he’s in the right hallway when he can hear Anthony cry out. Which means that he’s awake and alive, at least.

Azi steps into the treatment room to find him doubled over, clutching his stomach and coughing up bright red blood. When he steps up beside him, he sees that blood has soaked into the white sheets below where he’s sitting, too, and his heart sinks.

This looks very, very bad.

“Anthony, it’s Dr. Fell,” he says, gently touching his shoulder. “I’m here to help you.”

Instead of responding with words, Anthony flops backward to lie in the bed, writhing and crying out anew, clutching his stomach.

“Get him three doses of CN35, and where’s that scan?”

The nurse hands over the tablet with a look of silent horror, and when he checks the screen, he can see why: There’s a live organism in Anthony’s gut—one Azi doesn’t recognize. It’s alien. And it’s eating him alive.

There is only one possible course of action, and Azi isn’t going to leave Anthony in anyone else’s hands.

“Prep for surgical extraction immediately.”

“Doctor, the surgical suite here isn’t normally used for extensive—”

Azi grunts at that. “There’s no time to discuss options. Prep him now.”

Thanks to the fast-acting pain meds, Anthony is somewhat more calm now, but he’s weeping—and still coughing a tired little cough as more blood comes up.

“Anthony,” Azi says, “we’re going to put you under, now, and I’ll get that thing out of you.”

When Anthony looks at him, it’s with sheer terror in his eyes.

“I don’t want to die,” he sobs through bloody teeth.

Azi touches his shoulder again, holding his gaze. “You are _not_ going to die today. I promise.”

Seconds later, Anthony is unconscious, and they’re moving him into the infirmary’s single surgical suite. By the time Azi is ready to operate, a biological analyst has arrived with a portable cryo-chamber that he can deposit the creature into, so at least _someone_ else was thinking fast (and Azi’s dodgy plan of “crush it with his boot” won’t have to be put into action).

It’s large enough to be easy to locate, and it doesn’t put up much of a fight when he seizes it with his tongs and wrenches it out of the abdominal cavity. Wriggling there at the end of the metal tool, it’s long and blue and shimmery in the light, though clearly tired and possibly dying. It was never expecting to be in a human host, after all. After it’s deposited into the cryo carrier, promptly frozen, and whisked away by the eager analyst, Azi turns his attention back to Anthony—this is where the real work begins.

Over the next several hours, he locates and repairs the damage to the internal organs. Given that it’s spread out in an unpredictable pattern, he checks each centimeter of tissue for damage with unwavering precision, using handheld healing lamps over any injuries he finds. Some areas look to have been forcibly attacked, or possibly eaten, while others show odd patterns that look a bit like chemical burns. Each one requires a different healing wand with a unique calibration, and as he works, he’s increasingly confident that he can fix everything, as long as Anthony can hold on for the process. He makes certain that it’s his absolute best work, checking each area thrice over. Nearly the whole digestive tract is in tatters—it’s unclear which end the creature entered, but it took a full tour, and then punched a hole in the intestine wall in order to move freely about the abdomen. The shredded intestines take the longest to examine and repair, and when he reaches the end of the interior damage, he moves to examine the patient’s mouth and rectum, confirming no external damage under the patches of dried blood.

It’s only after closing him up and healing the incision that he learns the surgery took eleven hours in total—the nurses who assisted look ready to pass out after such a long day, and he tells the lot of them to take tomorrow to rest. While Anthony is transported back to his treatment room, Azi returns to the ER floor and is happy to hear that all burn patients have since been dismissed.

Azi knows he could go home, now, too. But he hates the thought of Anthony waking up alone after what he’s endured.

As he’s starting back toward his room, a nurse stops him—it’s the same young nurse who took the scan of the parasite, and he’s out of uniform.

“Dr. Fell, do you have a moment?”

“Yes,” he says, nodding.

“That surgery was … amazing. That was amazing to watch. I didn’t think he had a chance.”

There’s regret and confession in his tone, as much as there is awe. Azi hears what he’s _not_ saying.

“You did good work today, and you learned,” he tells him. “That’s a success.”

Back in Anthony’s room, Azi pulls up a chair to sit beside him. He’s still out, but his brow faintly furrows a few times, suggesting that he’ll wake up shortly. Azi can feel the weight of his own fatigue now that his body is relaxed, but he can’t even think of leaving. He’d never be able to sleep, anyway.

When Anthony’s eyes start to open, Azi takes his hand to help ground him. It’s a friendly gesture more than a doctoral one, but it feels right.

“There you are,” he says.

Anthony’s hazy gaze finds him and he stares for a moment.

“How are you feeling?”

Anthony hums in reply. “Tired.” Realization passes over his face, then. “What — what happened? What was that thing?”

Azi can see on the monitors that Anthony’s heart rate has spiked, so he takes his hand into a firm grasp with both of his own.

“Easy, now. You’re going to be perfectly fine. It appeared to be a parasite of some sort, alien in origin. I haven’t seen results from the analyst yet identifying it, but when we do—”

“No,” Anthony says, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I don’t want to know.”

“Very well.”

With his eyes still closed, he takes a slow and deep breath, and then licks his dry lips.

“Would you like a drink of water?”

Anthony nods at that, and Azi stands to fetch a cup. After Anthony drinks, he’s clearly on the brink of sleep again, so Azi tells him to rest and checks his scans one last time to be sure everything is still in order.

“I finished the book,” Anthony mumbles after a while, his eyes still closed.

It takes a moment for Azi to process that statement, recalling the last one he recommended. “Oh, did you? And?”

He nods, a tired smile spreading across his face. “You were right. I loved it.”

An odd feeling passes over Azi, in that moment. A powerful and passionate fondness, like none he’s ever felt before. In an instant, he realizes the full strength of his relief that Anthony is still here with him, and he’s abruptly dizzy from it. Any other outcome would have been an unfathomable loss. So unfathomable, in fact, that he had been emotionally blind to that possibility while he worked to save him.

“I am so glad to hear it, my friend.”

***

The following afternoon, after being discharged and sleeping nearly a full day in his flat, Anthony is on his way back to the infirmary. It feels a little strange, to be headed there in the light of day and with no injuries that need attending.

He’s carrying a box of exotic fruits he picked up at the central markets and had wrapped, as a gift, for Dr. Fell. Although it’s unlikely that he’ll be able to speak directly with him, he doesn’t want to wait for his next appointment to formally express his gratitude. It’s not lost on him that his incident with the space bug came at the worst possible time, what with something exploding somewhere and the infirmary being at capacity. In the midst of all that, Dr. Fell went above and beyond to save his life, and Anthony needs to acknowledge that in some way, even if the best he can do is a box of fruit.

At the infirmary, he finds the front desk empty, which likely means the nurse is preoccupied. After waiting a few moments and seeing no one appear, he decides to try his luck visiting Dr. Fell’s office, since he does know his way around this place.

Down the hall and around two corners, he comes up to the office and finds the door partly ajar, and realizes that he can hear two voices inside. So the doctor is busy, after all.

And then he realizes what the unfamiliar voice is saying.

“What I need you to explain to me is why you abandoned the emergency floor during a crisis so that you could … ugh, so that you could extract a _parasite_ from a _hooker_? Is that really it?”

Anthony’s heart is abruptly in his throat. He knows he shouldn’t be listening, but he’s frozen in place.

“Pardon me, director, but I do not appreciate your use of that term,” comes Dr. Fell’s surprisingly stern response.

“Oh, for the love of— A parasite from a parasite, then.”

“How foul of you. And I did _not_ abandon the floor. After learning that I had a patient in critical condition upstairs, I confirmed that all ER patients were stable and put Dr. Dowling in charge of the floor. And then, as you know, I performed urgent life-saving surgery on the patient.”

“That’s not an acceptable answer. Patients in need of extensive surgery are to be transferred to 3H—you know that. And the patients incoming from the _accident_ should have been your first priority. Someone who _chooses_ to engage in unsafe behavior is not.”

Anthony hates this, especially because he knew it would happen. He knew Dr. Fell’s kindness to him would backfire. Readjusting the package in his arms, he realizes his hands are trembling.

There’s a moment before Dr. Fell responds, and when he does, Anthony is stunned by the unrestrained fury in his voice.

“Excuse me, but you hired me to run this infirmary, and I will decide according to my best professional judgement in any moment which patients need my personal attention. I had a floor full of burn victims who were not in danger of dying, and a patient upstairs in critical condition with no time to spare. I made the only ethical choice, and I would do it again a thousand times. Moreover, the patient in question is one of the many human residents on this station that YOU have personally vowed to keep safe, and who I have vowed to keep alive. If you have issues with the way I am operating here you can take them to the board, but I do NOT invite you to come into my fucking office and tell me that I should have let ANY patient die.”

Immediately after he’s finished, Anthony can hear footsteps and makes the quick decision to stand on the other side of the doorway, and then watches the tall, broad-shouldered director go stomping in the other direction. He’s gone so quickly, Anthony can’t be sure if he noticed him standing there.

When he’s alone in the hall again, Anthony looks down at the gift. It cannot possibly be the best time, he reasons, starting sadly away. Fruit hardly seems thanks enough, anyhow.

Just as he’s made it to the corner, though, there comes a voice behind him.

“Anthony?”

He turns and finds Dr. Fell approaching, warm and friendly as always, despite the highly unpleasant conversation he just endured.

“How nice it is to see you looking well,” he says, and then his expression shifts. “Are you in to see me?”

“No,” Anthony says. “Well, yes. I mean, I don’t have an appointment. I just wanted to bring this to you.”

“Oh, how lovely. Want to step into my office?”

Inside, Dr. Fell shuts the door completely and Anthony glances around the little room. There’s a plain desk and chairs, and off to the side is a shelf … covered with other gifts. There must be seven baskets and five boxes that he can see from this angle. But of course everyone loves Dr. Fell. Of course.

“How are you feeling today?” he asks, unwrapping the box.

“Perfectly well, thanks to you. I wanted to … I wanted to be sure you know how grateful I am.”

“Oh my, how delicious!” Dr. Fell says when he sees the fruits inside. “These look and smell absolutely wonderful. But I hope you know they weren’t necessary. I am so glad I was able to help you, and seeing you here all healed is all the thanks I need.”

“I know it was the worst possible time,” Anthony says, his voice wavering in spite of himself. “And I know … I know I would have died if it was anyone but you. I know that.”

He awkwardly wipes his eyes, then, and in the fleeting blindness that follows, Dr. Fell has come around the desk and is pulling him into an embrace. Anthony readily returns the hug, wrapping his arms tightly around him, and he can’t fight the sobs that escape.

“My dear friend,” Dr. Fell is saying, “I’m so deeply grateful you’re alright.”

“I’m sorry,” Anthony adds, “I’m sorry I caused trouble for you.”

“What?” Dr. Fell asks, leaning back to look him in the eyes. “What do you— Oh, no. Did you hear anything in here a moment ago?”

Anthony nods.

“Listen to me. You haven’t caused me any trouble, and you certainly don’t owe me any apologies. My time on this station has only been improved by knowing you. I’m sorry you heard any part of that; he had no right to speak of you that way. Don’t waste two seconds of your thoughts on him, alright? I certainly won’t.”

At that, Anthony laughs, feeling some of his tension evaporate, and then the doctor pulls him into a second hug, which he happily returns, reminding himself not to read into it.

“I consider you a friend, too,” Anthony says when they pull away. “I really enjoy all our conversations.”

“Likewise,” Dr. Fell says with a warm smile. “I do wish I could stay and talk to you all afternoon, but unfortunately, I must get back to work.”

“Of course.”

Dr. Fell gives him a funny look, then, and goes on. “I hope this isn’t too forward, but would you like to meet for dinner tomorrow night? We could talk more without you being in a hospital bed.”

Anthony is touched by the invitation and gutted that he has to decline.

“Perhaps another ti—” Dr. Fell starts, sensing his hesitation.

“It’s not that I don’t _want_ to,” Anthony explains. “I just … can’t. It wouldn’t be good for you. I’m not comfortable with what it could mean for your position here if the wrong people saw you … engaging with me.”

“Oh,” Dr. Fell says. “Well, I’d certainly never ask you to do anything that made you uncomfortable. You’d be welcome to come to my flat, if that would be better.”

“Oh,” Anthony echoes in surprise. “Uh, yes. Sure. I’d like that.”

“Wonderful! I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Thank you, Dr. Fell,” he says, starting toward the door.

“Oh, Anthony,” he replies with his signature warm smile. “Do call me Azi, please.”

***


	4. The Truth

Azi never really expected to find a genuine friend so quickly on Eden. He had anticipated enjoying meeting new people, of course, getting to know the station itself, and pouring himself into his work, but this new friendship is a welcome surprise in so many ways.

He already feels so fond of Anthony, he reflects as he warms a soup for them to share. He can’t think of the last time he was so excited for a simple dinner, but every time he imagines Anthony stepping through the door, his heart does an odd little flutter. He tells himself it’s the new environment, the first meal he’s shared on Eden, and perhaps partly because he’s so relieved that Anthony is alright after the parasite incident.

But when Anthony does arrive, all those excuses vanish. Because he looks so stunning, Azi briefly forgets how to think.

Instead of his normal casual look, he’s gone with a nicer purple top under a black jacket and swept his hair to one side in a thick braid. It’s hardly a dramatic change, but enough to have Azi weak at the knees and scrambling to speak.

“Welcome!” he manages. “Please come in!”

Anthony smiles, giving him an odd look as he enters, and Azi realizes his enthusiasm was a little too heavy, perhaps.

“There’s soup for dinner,” he says, hoping to sound calmer. “I hope that’s alright.”

“That sounds perfect,” Anthony says, giving the place a once-over.

There’s not a lot to see in the living room—just a standard issue sofa, wall screen, window, and the corner shelf, which catches Anthony’s eye.

“Oh, wow,” he says, “are those _paper_ books?”

“Indeed,” Azi confirms, delighted to have something specific to talk about. “I collect them, here and there. Not easy to find, and fragile, but they’re so fascinating to see. Feel free to take a closer look.”

Anthony steps over to the shelf and tilts his head to read a few spines, which Azi finds deeply endearing. He offers a pair of reading gloves so that Anthony can handle them, which he accepts, and turns a few pages of _The Greek Myths_ , beautifully clothbound and gold embossed.

“Isn’t it something?” Azi offers. “Holding them feels like traveling back in time, to me.”

Anthony nods. “I feel that, too.”

When he sets the book on the shelf and carefully picks up another, Azi’s heart does the fluttering thing again, and he has to snap himself out of intense-focus mode. He’s always enjoyed Anthony’s company, but something is different, now, with the way he’s standing here looking so beautiful and quietly appreciating Azi’s quirky little collection and and and—

“Thank you,” Anthony says abruptly, handing back the gloves. “I appreciate you sharing those with me.”

_I would do literally anything you wanted._

“Oh, certainly!” Azi says, and the enthusiasm is certainly too strong again. “I’m … well, I’m glad to know you share my appreciation for them.”

“Very much... The soup smells delicious.”

“Ah, yes! Dinner!”

After he serves the soup and they sit to eat, Azi takes a moment to calm himself. Never in his life has he felt so endeared to another person, and it’s no mystery what’s going on. He’s overjoyed that Anthony is here in his home, sharing this meal with him, because he _loves_ him. There can be no other possible word for it. It’s the same feeling he had when Anthony recovered from the surgery, and when he brought the gift to his office. It’s come back in full force now that they get to be alone together.

When he’s fully accepted that truth as fact, he’s able to relax and bask in it, and they fall into easy conversation like always. Azi speaks of his time on Alruna working on his medical training, and Anthony shares fascinating memories of Centauri Station, where he grew up with three mothers and attended school.

It’s a gift, Azi reflects, to know Anthony at all. To be able to pass such a wonderful evening with him is the sort of exceptionally beautiful experience that the universe so rarely offers, a gem within the stardust.

“This is nice,” Anthony reflects at one point after they’ve finished their bowls. “Having a conversation while I’m not under one of your healing lamps, yeah?”

“Indeed,” Azi agrees. “Though I must selfishly admit that I’ve come to look forward to your appointments—not the reasons for them, of course, but the chance to see you. Is that strange to say?”

Anthony shakes his head and smiles at that. “Not at all. I’ve been looking forward to them, too. I’m glad you invited me here.” “I couldn’t agree more.”

Azi looks at him for some time, making sure to capture this moment in his mind, in case it only happens once.

“Azi,” Anthony says with a curious smile, “are you alright?”

Azi laughs and nods, realizing how obviously he’s been staring. Something about hearing Anthony use his first name has Azi overflowing with fondness again. He makes a choice, then, and it may very well be the wrong one. But he learned a long time ago not to take anything beautiful for granted.

“Yes, I’m much better than alright. In fact … I’d like to tell you something.”

“Oh?”

“It’s … highly unconventional of me to tell you so soon, I realize. But we simply _never_ know where we’re going to be tomorrow, do we? And I learned a long time ago not to leave anything important unsaid. So, I just want you to know how glad I am that we met and that you’re here tonight, and, well...”

“I’m glad, too,” he says, looking slightly confused.

“The truth is, Anthony, that I love you. I’m in love _with_ you, I mean to say. And so I want you to know, because it’s the truth, and because I can’t be sure there will ever be a better moment to say so.”

At that, Anthony’s confusion fades, replaced swiftly by surprise, and his gaze shifts down to his lap. “I’m sorry."

“Oh heavens, no—you don’t owe me any apology. You don’t owe me anything at all. I’m not expecting anything from you, not now or ever. I hope I haven’t made you terribly uncomfortable by telling you.”

“No,” Anthony says, still looking caught off guard. “Not uncomfortable, just … I wasn’t expecting ... I’m _very_ touched, Azi. You’re one of the kindest, most interesting people I’ve ever met, and I’m really glad to be your friend. This is the best night I’ve had in ages.”

Azi takes comfort in those words, though he can see that Anthony is downplaying his shock. Since he doesn’t want Anthony to feel any pressure to stay longer than he’s comfortable, Azi moves to take up the dishes and remarks again about how lovely it was to see him.

After Anthony has gone home for the night, Azi reflects happily on the evening they passed together. He hopes his confession won’t negatively affect their friendship in any way, because he certainly can’t bring himself to regret saying it. If this turned out to be the last time he ever saw Anthony, he could harbor no regrets.

As he turns in for the night, he finds himself thinking about all those poems and songs about love, spanning back centuries of human history. With so much emphasis on the _agony_ of unrequited love, Azi had always imagined that it must be a miserable and maddening experience, the sort of thing that he’d be wise to avoid. But the reality is not so.

Because loving Anthony is the most wonderful thing he’s ever felt.

***

A few days pass with no word from Anthony, and Azi decides to give him space. He doesn’t want to seem overbearing—or like he has specific expectations.

After a while, Azi’s initial serenity about having been completely honest starts to give way to doubt. For one thing, Anthony may think him acutely mad, now. For another, and much greater concern, Anthony may not feel as comfortable about coming to the infirmary for treatment.

That thought has Azi’s stomach in knots, because it’s the opposite of what he wants for _any_ patient. Logic tells him that Anthony won’t be swayed when he needs healing, but in hindsight, Azi hates to think that he might’ve done something that would crack the solid foundation of trust they’ve built over the last few months.

He was so caught up in the beautiful moment that he failed to think of Anthony’s future as a patient. He resolves to apologize the next time he sees him, to be sure Anthony knows that he never meant to put him in an awkward position and that nothing about his treatment will ever change.

Maybe love _is_ a messy, maddening thing after all.

Before he sees Anthony again at all, though, he’s greeted by a much less pleasant guest: Director Gabriel is once again waiting for him in his office. Something about his demeanor seems … off.

“Dr. Fell, hello,” he says flatly, uncharacteristically avoiding eye-contact.

“Director, is there something I can help you with?”

“Yes, actually,” he says with a sigh. “We need to have a conversation.”

***

In the days that follow the surreal evening with Azi, Anthony feels a bit like his head is spinning. On the one hand, he had a wonderful time with his only friend on the station.

On the other hand, what the _fuck_ just happened?

He still feels deeply guilty about how he’d left it, letting Azi assume that he didn’t reciprocate his feelings. But he’d been so blindsided by the words he could scarcely think. And the idea of someone like Azi _loving_ someone like him would be almost _hilarious_ if it weren’t so dangerous. Part of him had wanted to scream, “Have you been listening to _anything_ I’ve told you about my reputation? Do you think I’m in any position to _date_ someone while there’s a target on my back?” But, happily, that part was silenced under his much kinder response.

So, he had stayed silent about his own feelings, because if he had voiced them, the conversation could not possibly have ended well. It’s better this way, Anthony reasons, to keep it an amicable friendship, to keep Azi at arm's length. No matter how much the murky guilt pools in his mind like dark bile, clouding over any thoughts of his friend.

Azi doesn’t contact him directly after that, and Anthony decides he shouldn’t either, since he technically just _rejected_ him, which pains him to think. He almost starts to get impatient for a work injury, as a way to force them to interact, before he snaps out of it and laughs at his own insanity.

He does get his wish, though, of course. It’s only been five days since the dinner when he wakes up with a stiff neck and a throbbing elbow. At first, the elbow pain feels like the sort that might fade on its own, but after moving around, it only doubles in strength, and he’s quickly making his way down to the infirmary for a healing session.

Anthony is so preoccupied by thinking about seeing Azi again soon that he fails to hear what the nurse says after she scans him in.

“Sorry, what’s that?”

“You’ve been reassigned. You need to report to Infirmary 3H.”

“Reassigned?” he repeats, as if they’re not speaking the same language.

“That’s right. This isn’t your infirmary anymore.”

As she’s answering, a couple people have queued behind him.

“But I normally see Dr. Fell—”

“He isn’t here anymore,” she says, impatient. “Do you need me to order a medical transport to 3H?”

“No, no thanks. I can get there on my own.”

“Great,” the nurse says, moving on to the next guest.

Stepping back outside, Anthony feels like there’s a boulder on his chest, making it hard to breathe or think. For a moment, he has no idea what to do. He’d like to go back home, but one tiny movement of his arm reminds him that his elbow is on fire.

He’s in a weird haze as he makes his way to the other infirmary, so much so that he even collides with someone at one point, thankfully not on the side of the bad elbow.

So many things are racing through his mind, so many memories, and he’s not sure how to feel. How could Azi be gone without saying anything? Did he get sacked by that asshole director? Was he forced to leave Eden?

Did he _already_ know when they had dinner together, and that’s why he got so personal so fast?

The last thought hits Anthony like a second blow to the chest. Maybe Azi did know that he was going to have to leave—he said all that stuff about never knowing what tomorrow holds and how he really wanted to tell Anthony the whole truth while he had the chance.

And then Anthony had just sat there without telling him the same, letting him draw an incorrect conclusion. He should have been honest in return. He shouldn’t have wasted the chance. What if he never sees him again?

Infirmary 3H is closer to the central hub of the station, and much larger than the one Anthony is used to. The lobby is much bigger and a little confusing since there isn’t just one simple reception desk, but he finally makes his way to someone who can help, and they take his ID scan.

“Ah, Anthony Crowley. Yes, you’re in the right place. What’s the appointment for?”

“Just elbow pain. Tendonitis, I think.”

“Alright, that’s all set. Follow me.”

For a moment, he wonders if maybe the special clearance Azi gave him is still in the system, but then he realizes that maybe there’s just plenty of room at this infirmary. Figures that he got stuck with the shitty one all this time.

Seated in a treatment room moments later, he waits. He just wants to get this over with so he can go home and sleep, even though he knows he won’t be able to sleep at all. No, he’s going to try to find a way to contact Azi. Maybe it’s not too late to say goodbye, at least.

Just then, the door opens.

“Anthony!” Azi says, stepping inside, bright and chipper as ever. “I’m sorry for the shuffling. I only found out they were moving me here yesterday, and then there was so much to sort out, and I made sure to get you transferred but I hadn’t had the chance to tell you, and— Oh. Are you alright?”

Anthony had started to laugh when Azi came in as the pieces clicked into place and he realized how silly it had been to be so worried. But the laugh quickly dissolved into ugly tears, and here he is, once again awkwardly wiping his eyes.

“Anthony, talk to me,” Azi is saying, now standing at his side and touching his shoulder.

“I thought—ugh. I didn’t know where you—”

“Oh, no,” he says, seemingly filling in the blanks. “I thought they would have explained … Oh, I’m so sorry. I never thought for a second that you might think I’d left without saying something. I’d _never_ do that, Anthony. I wouldn’t abandon you.”

Anthony moves to hug him with his good arm, and Azi very gently returns the embrace, stroking his back.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I should have made sure you knew.”

At that, Anthony pulls back to look at him again, and their faces end up closer than they’ve ever been, and Azi is looking at him with such sweet concern that for the briefest moment, Anthony _almost_ kisses him. Instead, he sits up straight.

“It’s alright,” Anthony says. “I’m really glad you had me transferred over with you.”

“Of course I did!” Azi says, and then his smile falls a bit, and he sighs before he goes on. “Anthony, I’m very glad to hear you say that. I owe you another apology, however. I shouldn’t have been so candid at our first dinner together, and I do dearly hope I didn’t put you in an awkward position as my patient. I hope you know that your treatment here will always be—”

“No, Azi, no,” Anthony interrupts, because he can’t take it anymore. “You’ve got it all wrong. I should have been honest with you, too, when you told me how you feel. The truth is … I do feel the same way about you. It’s entirely reciprocated.”

In the heavy silence that follows, Azi’s expression shifts to one Anthony has never seen before—he looks genuinely stunned, and a strong blush has risen to his nose and cheeks.

“Oh,” he says, swallowing. “Oh, but … but you apologized to me?”

Anthony smiles at that, glancing down at his lap. “I was thinking that you fell for the worst possible person on the station … That’s just what came out.”

“Ohh,” Azi says in a light scolding voice. “Certainly not.”

There’s another odd silence, and then Azi seems to remember himself. “Oh, heavens, your _elbow_! Let’s get you scanned!”

Anthony holds his arm out, flinching, and Azi takes a scan like usual. His face is still rosy.

“Ah, yes, you’ve got some inflammation in the tendon here. That’s, um. Well, it’s an easy heal. But, gosh, the word has left me.”

“Tendonitis?” Anthony asks.

“Yes! That’s it. Goodness. Alright. Let’s get you under a lamp, then, good sir!”

As he gets into position in the bed, Anthony abruptly feels bad for springing the news on him here, since it seems like maybe he broke his brain. Azi doesn’t even remember to give him pain meds until _after_ the lamp is in place, and he’s not talking as much as usual.

“Are you _alright_?” Anthony finally asks.

In response, Azi’s whole face blooms scarlet. “Yes, yes, I’m fine! I only … Well, I wish I had more time to talk to you, _haha_! Will you come by later? My new flat is up a few levels from here; I’ll give you the number.”

“Sure,” Anthony says, nodding. “I’ll come by.”

“Good,” Azi says fondly.

The lamp beeps its completion and Azi removes it, then rescans Anthony’s elbow, confirming it’s fully healed.

When he’s out of the bed, they embrace again, and Azi holds him tight this time.

“I’m sorry, again, for the misunderstanding about the transfer,” he says. “I’ll see you later?”

Anthony nods in reply and they part ways on a happy note, but he’s already dreading the conversation to come. By the time he’s left the infirmary, the whole interaction feels a bit like a dream.

***

Azi has never once, in his entire career, been so eager to leave work and go home. Even after his shift is finished, he has to stay and talk to some of his coworkers who are still adjusting from the shift in personnel. Apparently they’d decided to promote an assistant, but that person had been shifted to 4H specifically so they could bring Azi over here—it turned out that word had spread about the parasite removal surgery, which was something of an anomaly on the station, and so 3H had personally requested that he be moved to their staff.

So that’s all fine and good, and his new coworkers are lovely, but he really _really_ wants to go home now.

When he’s finally in the lift up, he types a message to Anthony and has to take a deep breath to calm himself before sending.

His new flat is bigger than the last one, with an extra room he hasn’t found any use for, and a nice large window with a view of this side of the central hub. After changing clothes, he takes the time to ground himself, focussing inward and thinking of what he’ll say to Anthony. He was caught off guard at the infirmary, but only because he was so thoroughly taken by surprise. This time, he’ll be prepared and composed.

But then it occurs to him that they might embrace and kiss this time, and the thought is so overwhelming that he feels heat rush to his face and hurries to the kitchen for a drink of water.

Anthony arrives shortly, and Azi manages to greet him in his usual way, though he hopes the tremble in his hands isn’t obvious. They take to the sofa in the main room, where Azi has already set two glasses of water.

“I’m glad you could come. I hoped we could talk and figure out if we both want the same things.”

Anthony nods, but he seems a bit reluctant.

“Personally,” Azi goes on. “I’m interested in pursuing a romantic relationship, if that’s also what you want.”

Anthony looks at him with sad eyes. “I meant what I said earlier. I … feel the same way you do. But I can tell you that this won’t end well, us dating. And I really can’t handle you hating me. I can handle it from everyone else, but not you.”

Azi’s heart is pounding, but he manages to reply calmly. “What do you think would happen between us?”

“You know what I do,” Anthony goes on. “You know how dangerous it is. How long before you ask me to stop? How many nights could you stay up worrying before you start resenting me? Before you start thinking that if I _really_ loved you, I wouldn’t be putting you through all this? Because, look, I _know_ it’s too much to ask. It’s too much to ask of anyone. But this is my situation right now, and I can’t stop. I hate it, I hate it all the time, but I can’t stop for anyone. And I don’t want to break your heart by not choosing you. I could never forgive myself. Whatever rosy future you’re picturing, it’s not possible.”

Azi listens to his words very carefully and then makes a split-second decision to stand up and remove his shirt. In doing so, he reveals the evenly spaced scars that cover his torso.

Anthony looks understandably baffled.

“Before I started medical training, I was a ground soldier in the Terran Military in the war with Mars. These are scars from forced augmentation surgery all of us underwent to modify our bodies for combat.”

“You’re from _Earth_?” Anthony asks in awe, tears dripping down his cheeks.

Azi understands the reaction, to a certain extent. It’s fairly rare to meet anyone from Earth, since the planet was mostly dead in the last few centuries before its final destruction by the Martians, its population dwindling all through the relentless war. The ultimate loss of all humans’ ancestral homeworld sent shockwaves through their species, which he now knows as fact, though it is a specific form of grief he does not share.

“I am. I was extremely lucky to escape before the planet was destroyed. Someone rescued a group of us—not many, but a group—and got us off in time. I knew that if I lived, I would devote the rest of my life to helping other people, in order to be worthy of that rescue. I’m telling you all this so you’ll believe me when I say that I am not one to imagine rosy futures. I consider each day a gift. I can also promise you right now that I’ll _never_ ask you to stop. I believe that you need the money.”

With that, he pulls his top back on and returns to the sofa, closer now to Anthony.

“What if our relationship wasn’t like what you’ve said, at all? What if you came home _here_ after your work nights, and I tended to you and then made you breakfast, and you could stay in and sleep instead of dealing with the infirmary? What if we could see each other every day?”

Anthony takes his hand and grips it, more tears falling, and Azi holds it in both of his own hands.

“That sounds really nice,” he says, voice catching.

“If you’ll give me a chance,” Azi goes on, “if you’ll let me love you, I will take care of you. And I will _never_ demand anything.”

Anthony pulls him into a swift hug, then, burying his face in his shoulder, and Azi rubs his back. He can’t be certain if this is yes or no, but for the moment, he knows Anthony just needs to process.

When Anthony pulls away, though, he stops short and kisses him. Azi freezes. Anthony’s lips feel soft and delicate against his own in a way he never properly imagined. He’s never kissed another person, and for a moment, he’s so struck by the physical sensation, he forgets how to think or respond in any way.

Fortunately, Anthony doesn’t seem to notice.

“This is going to be terrible for your reputation,” he says with a sad smirk.

Azi beams. “Does that mean you’ll let me take you out to dinner?”

They kiss again, then, and Azi keeps his wits this time, properly returning the affection. They remain there on the sofa well into the night.

***

Anthony doesn’t have many things to pack; mostly just clothes. Over his many nomadic years zipping around the galaxy, he hadn’t made a habit of collecting anything.

Closing up his trunk, it still feels surreal to Anthony that he’s really doing this—moving out of the shabby little flat he rented two years ago. He certainly won’t miss it, but he feels an odd mix of emotions about what’s to come.

Azi continues to be full of surprises. Anthony certainly never expected him to make such a _compelling_ case for them to be together, with such a realistic approach to Anthony’s situation—one he still needs to explain, since he figures he owes Azi the full truth.

But then, he also had never expected that his time on Eden would include meeting someone so wonderful, who—minor detail—was literally a refugee of fucking _Earth_. Ten years ago, the news of its destruction by the Martians had affected him more than he thought it would. He hadn’t anticipated feeling anything specific about a dead planet he’d never visited, but the loss of Earth weighed heavily on him—he wasn’t alone in that, of course. Entire books had already been published about the collective experience of grief that accompanied the loss of their species’ origin planet. By the hands of other humans, no less.

At Azi’s flat, Anthony is able to enter on his own now and settles into the sofa to wait for Azi to get home from work. As much as he wishes he were here already, he swells with pride to think of all the people he must be helping.

Sometime later, he wakes up to Azi touching his shoulder and sits up to greet him.

“Hi,” Azi says, and they embrace and kiss as if they’ve done it a hundred times. As if it isn’t brand new. “Oh, I’ve waited all day for that.”

“Me, too.”

“Is that bag all of it?”

“Yeah, I don’t have much.”

Azi nods, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Well, listen, there are a couple options here. I’m thinking I’ll convert the spare room into a treatment room, so I’ll have all the equipment I need to tend to you right here. Of course, if you’re ever in an emergency situation, you’ll still go directly to the infirmary and let them alert me.”

Anthony nods in agreement. “Hopefully no more parasites.”

Azi squeezes his hand. “Oh, amen to that.”

“You were saying?”

“Right. Well, if you’d like to have your own private space, that room could double as your bedroom, perhaps with a curtain to divide the two areas. Alternatively, though, you’re welcome to stay with me, in my room, and sleep there, either in my bed or in a second one that we could add. Really, any configuration is perfectly fine with me—just think about what sounds most comfortable.”

“Honestly,” Anthony says, “I had kind of assumed I’d be staying with you. If that’s alright.”

“Of course!” Azi says, perhaps more giddily than he intended, and Anthony can’t hide his amusement. “If you change your mind, though, we can always revisit. Don’t _ever_ worry if you want to try something different.”

With that settled, they’re quickly kissing again. Azi’s kisses are eager enough that Anthony wonders if they might go further soon, but his hands are pretty chaste, never dipping below Anthony’s lower back.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” Azi says, breathless.

“So am I,” Anthony says, and then he remembers something. “Actually, now that we’re living together, I want to explain why I’m in debt. It’s not a flattering story, but I don’t want to have this big secret from you.”

“Alright,” Azi says, friendly and non-judgemental as always.

Anthony takes a breath. “Just over two years ago, when I was still hopping around the galaxy taking odd jobs wherever I ended up, I fell in with a group of smugglers. They needed a fifth person for a big job, and the profit was too good to pass up. The client was some government asshole, I suspect, though I’ve no idea of their actual identity. You may not be aware of this, but those jobs are highly competitive, and they normally require a contract of sorts—a fail-safe so that if the asset is lost, the smuggler team has to pay up. Well, as you’ve certainly guessed, this job was a colossal failure. Not only were the assets lost, but so was our ship, exploded to bits, with everyone on board. Except for me, just by dumb luck, since I’d been on a tether outside that had broken. So there I was, drifting in the void, watching the whole lot of ships blown to dust. It even didn’t hit me until later that the whole payment would fall to me. Those things were usually formalities. I tried to run, at first, but they found me. They wanted payment within a year, but how the fuck was I supposed to manage that? That much was supposed to be split between the five of us. So, they gave me _five_ years. And there aren’t many avenues where I could pull in that much in that amount of time, especially by myself. So, here I am, working off the debt. Because unfortunately for me, I _do_ want to live.”

“After you’ve completed the full payment,” Azi asks quickly, “you have some safehold that prevents them from demanding more?”

Anthony nods. “The account has a preset maximum. Once I fulfill that, it’ll vanish like it was never there. They don’t like those accounts sitting around too long, and they don’t want to be associated with smugglers any longer than necessary.”

Azi nods. “I see. May I ask what the asset was?”

“Oh, did I not say? It was a few ships, abandoned out in neutral territory in the asteroid belt. We were supposed to nudge them over to where humans could legally scoop them up. No idea what made them so appealing, since somebody saw pirates and nuked the lot.”

“Do you think you were set up?”

The question put forth so frankly, and so quickly, sends Anthony’s head spinning for a moment.

“I’ve wondered that myself, but my instincts tell me no. I think they wanted those ships. I think they were pissed.”

Azi hums at that. “I appreciate you sharing this with me. I’m sorry that you’ve found yourself in such a difficult situation, but knowing the full story only reaffirms how much I admire your resilience, and your resolve to getting out of it.”

They have dinner together in what is now their shared home, falling into easy conversation about the books they’re reading and films they’d like to see. All the while, Anthony is slightly preoccupied by what might happen when they eventually go to bed. It’s been a long, long time since he had sex—since he doesn’t use that word for the work he does—and the anticipation keeps making him feel a little light-headed. Or maybe that’s just the wine.

When they do get into bed together, for the first of what will be many times, he thinks Azi looks just as excited as he does. And then they’re kissing again, Azi’s hands running over Anthony’s torso, and he thinks they _must_ be on the same page, and he’s practically mad with desire.

But then, just like before, Azi stops and looks at him. Anthony realizes there are tears in his eyes this time.

“I’ve really never been so happy,” Azi says. “I hope that’s not strange to say.”

Forgetting his earlier craving entirely, Anthony gathers him into his arms. “It’s not strange at all. I’m happy, too.”

“Oh, how I love you,” Azi breathes, holding him tight.

Something about his unrelenting earnestness draws up the same emotion in Anthony, and he feels a prickling at the corners of his own eyes. “I love you, too.”

***


	5. Poetry

Azi is walking on air all through the following day. He’s never felt anything like this level of bliss, and several times, he thinks other people can see it.

He does his best not to let it throw off his focus from work—and he’s pretty good at that, since he can zero in when needed. But every time he’s alone again, even if it’s just in a lift for a moment, his mind drifts back to Anthony and how wonderful it felt to hold him in his arms and kiss him.

The thought draws up an incredible warmth across his whole body like nothing he’s ever experienced. When he thinks of the way Anthony looked, lying shirtless beside him this morning, or the way his hair smells, or the way it feels to kiss him, his balance goes a bit wonky.

It’s so wonderful to think that he’ll see him in the evening, and doubly wonderful because it means he has something to look forward to all day long. A few lines of an ancient love poem keep dancing through his mind, having taken on a new and much more personal significance:

_When my arms wrap you round I press_

_My heart upon the loveliness_

_That has long faded from the world_

He makes a mental note to look up the full poem later; the first stanza has never left him, at once beautiful and—at the time—peculiar. How wonderful, Azi reflects, to have read and remembered those old words that so perfectly capture this feeling.

Near the end of his day, he’s standing in the hospital lobby when he glances toward the vendors outside in the courtyard and gets an idea. Before he heads up to his flat after his shift ends, he stops by a flower cart and buys a bundle of pretty orange blooms. At first, he feels a bit silly about it, but as soon as he’s holding the flowers and thinking of his dear Anthony, a new warmth spreads over him, leaving him almost dizzy.

What a glorious insanity love seems to be!

As soon as he’s through the door, he throws his arms around him and kisses him in the way he’s imagined all day.

“How was your day?” Anthony asks afterward.

“Oh, just fine. These are for you.”

“Oh,” Anthony says, taking the flowers. “Lovely. Thank you.”

“I know, it’s a silly thing. I was just thinking about you, and—”

Anthony kisses him again, cutting him off, and he lingers, letting his hands run up and down Azi’s back, in a way that leaves him warm and dizzy all over again. The idea of being physically intimate with Anthony is overwhelmingly appealing, to the extent that Azi can’t let himself dwell on it. He could never, ever rush this, nor behave in a way that might make Anthony think he’s presumed they’ll do anything specific together. Given what Anthony has endured for work, it’s possible that he isn’t interested in recreational sex, which Azi fully respects. Instead, he basks in the feeling, in the kissing, in the _wanting_ , in ways that he’s never felt before.

“Not silly,” Anthony says. “Really sweet of you. I’ve been thinking about you, too.”

“I could scarcely think of anything else, I must confess,” Azi adds.

“Same here. I have a little surprise, too, actually. Dinner is almost ready.”

“Oh, how lovely of you to cook for me!”

“My pleasure. Your kitchen is a dream, honestly.”

They sit down to the single best meal Azi has had since he came to Eden, and he learns that Anthony spent a couple years working for a chef when he was younger. He’s humble about his skills, but Azi can sense his pride and delight at how much Azi enjoys each dish. As they eat and talk, Anthony also reaches over to touch Azi’s hand several times, which is even more wonderful than the food.

When they’ve cleared the table afterward, Azi pulls Anthony into his arms there in the kitchen and kisses him once more.

“Thank you. That was a wonderful meal, and it means a lot to me.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

The next kiss is more ardent, and Anthony once again lets his hand explore Azi’s back, lingering on his waist. Anthony is breathing more heavily, too, and Azi feels the tip of his tongue poke forward and touch his own. The sensation draws up an audible whimper in him that he wasn’t anticipating.

“Azi?” Anthony asks, perhaps concerned.

“Sorry, I don’t know why—”

“Do you want to do _more_ than just kissing?”

The heat of one hundred suns rushes to his face. “Oh, yes! If you would.”

“Very much,” Anthony says with a smile.

Azi is powerless to resist kissing him again, now with new fervor.

“What do _you_ like?” Azi asks afterward, hoping to avoid admitting that he’s never done this before.

He’ll be honest if Anthony asks him a direct question, of course. But unless it comes up that way, Azi has resolved not to mention it. He wants this to be happy and comfortable, and he won’t have Anthony feeling like he needs to guide him at all—Azi has a comprehensive understanding of anatomy, anyway. Even more than that, though, he’s very eager to hear what Anthony likes, because there’s nothing else he’d consider doing.

In reply, though, Anthony’s smile fades and his brow furrows the slightest bit. “You know, I’m honestly not sure anymore?” The smile returns. “But I think I’d like to try anything with you.”

Azi smiles back. “I look forward to finding out the answer together.”

Not long after that, they’re in bed, and Azi is trailing kisses down Anthony’s bare chest, slowly traveling lower. He’d offered to use his mouth on him and Anthony had agreed, but Azi is content to take the scenic route to the destination.

Placing a kiss beside his navel, he looks up and finds Anthony watching him with hazy eyes and rosy cheeks, loose auburn curls falling around his face. He’s as beautiful as a dream, and Azi can’t resist moving back up to his lips to kiss him.

“Are you ready?” he asks afterward.

Anthony smiles and touches his cheek. “Yes.”

Trailing kisses down again, more rapidly this time, he moves to Anthony’s cock and kisses the base of the shaft, hearing him moan just after. Encouraged, he takes him into his mouth, avoiding touching him with his teeth, and flicking his tongue at the tip as he’s read about. That gets him another eager moan, and Anthony's hand moves to grip his shoulder.

He’s able to find a good rhythm, alternating licking with bobbing his head, and all the while, Anthony makes the most wonderful sounds he’s ever heard. His cock throbs in his mouth in the same way his own is throbbing within the trousers he’s still wearing. He’s never been so aroused in his entire life, and the feeling is both incredible and maddening, though he trains his full focus on Anthony’s pleasure.

When Anthony cries out a bit more loudly, Azi has to pause in place a moment while he reaches his own release. He resumes his pace just after, and he’s not sure if Anthony noticed, but he’s glad of the mental clarity that follows, and his renewed ability to give Anthony his full attention.

Anthony cries out once more as he comes, and the sound gives way to a laugh as his body relaxes. Swallowing, Azi withdraws and presses kisses to each of Anthony’s thighs before moving up to his face again.

Anthony quickly pulls him into a happy kiss. “Would you like me to return the favor?”

“Oh,” Azi says, caught slightly off guard. “Perhaps next time; I already finished.”

“Oh,” Anthony echoes, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Alright.”

“I really enjoyed that,” Azi adds.

“Me, too,” Anthony replies, kissing him again. “Me, too.”

***

After two lovely nights in his new home, Anthony has reached the point where he needs to work again. He’s never in great spirits on those days, unable to eat his usual amount and existing under a cloud of dread.

He spends the day cleaning and checking his feeds and napping, and then when evening rolls around, drags himself to the bathroom to get ready. It does feel a little different to be doing this in Azi’s flat, in no small part because it will be the first time he’s seen him in his work attire.

First, there’s the prep: Some numbing lubricant in key areas, and then a single shot of alcohol to relax his muscles. Never more than that, since his mind needs to stay sharp. Then he shaves his legs and arms and moisturizes his pale skin. After that, he’s ready for his outfit, which tonight will be a gold chainmail dress over black stockings and shiny boots.

Then, for his face, he applies a gold lipstick and flared black eyeliner, turns his head up and uses cosmetic eye drops that will turn his hazel irises temporarily to gold, which creates a fiery look alongside his auburn curls. For a finishing touch, he dusts tiny gold sparkles over his cheekbones, giving him an ethereal glow. To be honest, it’s not a bad look at all, and perhaps in another life he’d wear this to go out partying or for some other _enjoyable_ activity.

Just then, he hears Azi return home, and he realizes his mistake: He’s already made up his face before getting the chance to kiss him goodbye. Oops.

“Anthony?” comes his voice.

“I’m in here,” he says. “I’m dressed for work, so don’t faint.”

Stepping out, he finds him in the bedroom and Azi raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“Well, you look … different!”

“I know, it’s a bit ridiculous. But it’s meant to be eye-catching.”

“That it certainly is. The makeup looks very nice; I haven’t seen that before.”

“No, I normally wash up before the infirmary … I should have waited to put this on so we could say goodbye properly. Sorry.”

“Oh, that’s alright,” Azi says, and takes his hand, lifting it to his lips. “Do you need anything before you go?”

“No, I’m all set. I can’t really eat before; my stomach is too cranky.”

“Alright. Well, I’ll see you when you get home?”

Anthony nods and they lightly embrace. It’s a nice thought, coming back here when he’s finished, even though it’s a bit nerve-wracking to be putting Azi’s plan into play. It feels almost too good to be true, that someone could see this side of him and go on loving him. Newt certainly couldn’t, and his words still haunt his mind two years later: _You’ll let any of them touch you any way they want, but not me._

Starting down the first avenue he frequents, he takes a breath and clears his mind. In the streets just removed from the central hub, many bars and clubs are clustered, and he can normally count on catching the eye of some alien traveler who is intrigued by the idea of an unofficial tryst—not the sort they’d get from a pleasure center, where everything is soft and cozy and documented. With Eden being a bit of a “pit stop” station for so many, there are new travelers around all the time, who may feel bold enough to try something exotic while they’re far away from home.

The majority of them don’t set out to physically injure him; they just don’t have any experience with fragile humans. Some do intend to harm, though, and they get off on his pain and fear, on the fact that he has no notion of what they’ll do, and he counts the minutes until they’re finished. There’s nothing technically illegal about what he does—no actual laws against it—but there are no protections, either. Aside from outright murder, which is always a crime, clients can do any number of things to him and face no consequences. Which, of course, is part of the draw.

As he turns a corner on one block, he passes by a group of people wearing neat scarlet uniforms and keeps his head down. They’re sex workers from the Eden pleasure center, with their flawless skin and professionally styled hair. They mostly ignore him, but he catches one sneer from the person in the back of their group. Anthony understands their judgement and doesn’t take it too personally. He should just get a _real_ job, like them, instead of stealing clients and making humans look bad in the process, and so on. But their salaries wouldn’t cover what he needs, not in the timeframe that he needs it. And it’s not like he’d ever possess the charisma necessary to do their work, anyway.

He actually went to a pleasure center on another station a few times, hoping to learn some skills, and he was surprised at how genuinely pleasant every part of it was, how blissed out he felt by the end each time. It’s no wonder why those places are so popular.

After another block, he senses that someone is following him from a distance and confirms with a quick glance that it’s an interested customer—an Orycter, standing taller than him, with signature large ears and a long, slender snout. This one is possibly a bit shy. He ducks into an alley and waits for them to follow or change their mind.

The Orycter appears beside him moments later, and they begin the transaction, which starts with a pre-payment and then a walk to a private location, followed by a confirmation of full payment and then an hour of whatever they want. This one is the sort that wants to poke—and sniff—every part of his body as he undresses, out of giggly wide-eyed curiosity, as though he’s a brand new plaything, and the interaction escalates from there.

Anthony comes out of that session with no injuries or soreness, and since it’s still somewhat early in the night, he’ll continue walking around for a while in case he can snag another.

By the time he heads home, when it’s early morning and the crowds have dissipated, he remains uninjured, happily, and with two nice payments in his account. The only soreness is in his scalp, where his long hair was tugged repeatedly, and he rubs it with both hands as he rides the lift back to Azi’s flat.

When he steps through the door, he finds Azi awake and waiting.

“Hi,” he says, in greeting as much as in question.

“I’m fine. I just need to shower.”

“Good,” Azi says, smiling. “I left a robe for you.”

After scrubbing himself clean under the hot water, Anthony pulls up his wet hair into a drying cloth and finds the soft green robe Azi set out for him. When he emerges from the washroom, he finds Azi waiting in the bedroom and they embrace and kiss before settling into bed. With Azi’s arms snugly around him, they doze until Azi’s alarm goes off in a few hours.

When it’s time for Azi to get up, he kisses Anthony’s cheek and goes to get ready. Tired though he is, Anthony’s appetite has also returned, and they have breakfast together before Azi leaves for work and Anthony climbs back in bed.

He wakes up at midday, and free from the looming pressure of work, goes out for a walk and gets one of his favorite snacks. He normally only works two nights per week, to give himself the space to recuperate physically and mentally afterward.

Evening comes and Azi returns, and they’re kissing the second he’s through the door.

“Hi,” Azi says just after.

“Hi. Are you exhausted?”

“No,” he says, pressing another eager kiss to his lips.

“Liar,” Anthony says, laughing.

Azi looks confused.

“You didn’t have to stay up and wait for me.”

“Oh! I didn’t. I slept on the couch until I heard you coming in.”

“Oh.” Anthony blinks. “You … the couch is comfortable enough?”

“Oh, sure. I could sleep anywhere. How are you?”

“Perfectly well.”

Azi kisses him again, and Anthony can tell at once that they’re equally happy to see each other. But even so, Azi’s hands remain chaste as ever. To encourage him, Anthony covers his hand where it’s resting above his waist and pushes it further down, across his hip.

“It’s not too soon?” Azi asks, breathless.

“Not for me,” Anthony replies. “I’m really perfectly fine.”

With that fact established, they fall quickly into bed, tearing at each other’s clothes this time. Anthony welcomes the new enthusiasm, pulling Azi close and kissing him when they’re both nude.

“Do you want to be inside me this time?” Anthony asks on a whim as he’s kissing Azi’s neck.

In reply, though, Azi freezes. “Oh.”

“No pressure,” Anthony adds. “Just an idea.”

“I do think I would enjoy that,” Azi says, cheeks flushed, “but … are you not … sore? At all? I wouldn’t want to make it worse.”

“Oh, no,” Anthony responds, finally understanding his hesitation. “It wasn’t … They didn’t do it that way, this time. Some do, of course. But others just want me to... Sorry. I’m not trying to give too many details.”

“Anthony,” Azi says, suddenly fully serious. “You can tell me anything. If you ever want to talk about it, I’m happy to listen.”

“I mostly don’t want to.”

“Alright.”

“What I do want,” he says, pressing another kiss to Azi’s lips. “Is to forget about all that and have a nice time together.”

Azi sighs in the kiss, and Anthony can feel his arousal plainly where it’s jutting against his thigh. Between that and his blush and the way he’s kissing, Anthony thinks he _must_ want this just as badly, yet he’s still so damned restrained about it.

***

Head spinning, Azi offers to apply lubricant and Anthony happily agrees. Azi starts slowly, working it into him while he continues to trail kisses along his neck and shoulder, not wanting to do anything too hastily. Feeling him from inside in this way is marvelous all by itself, not to mention far less overwhelming than the thought of what they’ll be doing shortly.

“Azi,” Anthony says after a while. “Hey, look at me.”

Azi does so, wondering if Anthony has finally gauged his inexperience.

“You don’t have to be so gentle, alright? I won’t break,” he says sweetly, touching Azi’s face. “We want the same thing.”

Azi smiles at that and presses a kiss to his cheek. “I’ve never once thought you fragile. Only precious. Do tell me if anything is ever too much.”

“Of course,” Anthony says, nodding. “Same to you.”

With that new feedback, Azi resumes the preparation with two fingers this time, working in the lube and scissoring to stretch the opening.

“ _That’s_ it,” Anthony breathes, letting his head loll back.

Azi has just settled into a good pace, and started to bask in the way Anthony keeps purring, when Anthony looks at him again.

“I’m ready,” he says, nodding.

Withdrawing his hand and moving into position, Azi trains his full focus on Anthony, so that he can tune out the way his own heart is pounding. A long time ago, they would have needed to use protective devices to prevent infection to each other’s bodies, but those diseases are relics of the past thanks to routine inoculations. And there’s nothing to fear from Anthony’s other exposures, since the majority of alien ailments are not transmittable across species, aside from the bizarre outlier like the nearly fatal parasite. These are the things Azi is thinking of in this moment, as a way to reassure himself that everything is perfectly safe, but also because thinking of the act in its medical sense is a measure of comfort for him.

As it turns out, no amount of fingering could have prepared him for the sensation of entering Anthony for the first time. As he slips in deeper with ease thanks to the ample lube, he moans out loud in a ridiculous, fluttery sound that he’s certain will make Anthony laugh.

But then, instead, he only makes a similar sound.

“Oh, fuck,” Anthony breathes. “Fucking stars.”

“Yes,” Azi agrees, since it’s the only word that occurs to him. And then he starts to move. Slowly.

Anthony takes hold of Azi’s hip and kisses him. “Harder.”

Quickening his pace, Azi hears Anthony moan again and has himself never known such physical euphoria, which only increases with each thrust. Heaven above, it’s no wonder why there are so many centuries of poems and songs and films celebrating this feeling.

After only a couple minutes at the new speed, Azi’s orgasm crashes through him at full force, leaving him moaning and panting in a newly ridiculous way, though he’s fully stopped caring about that. Anthony holds him close and kisses him while he finishes, and when Azi opens his eyes, he realizes he was alone in coming so quickly.

“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean—”

“That’s alright. It’s been a _long_ time for me. I understand.”

Azi withdraws, eyeing Anthony’s full arousal. “I could use my mouth again.”

“Maybe,” Anthony says, pulling him close. “Come here for a while. Let’s see if you can go again.”

It hadn’t even occurred to Azi to try to wait out the refractory period, but the thought of joining their bodies again is an extremely nice one, and he hopes his anatomy will cooperate.

After lying with Anthony, holding each other and kissing for a while, he gets his wish. When Anthony notices, he smiles and raises his eyebrows in a silent question. His eyes seem to be sparkling, his cheeks are rosy, and his hair a glorious mess of red curls. Azi can’t imagine feeling anything other than awe, can’t imagine ever feeling the slightest bit entitled to such beauty.

“You are _so_ lovely.”

“So are you,” Anthony says, reaching out to ruffle his much shorter hair.

Azi moves back into place, and the second time, he lasts a bit longer. Long enough for them to both cry out at once while they come together, before Azi relaxes against him and they lie panting for a while.

In the afterglow, Azi is admiring the tattoos on the underside of Anthony’s arm, where he hasn’t looked closely before. He runs his fingers over a likeness of Earth just after the planet rotates to show all continents and then goes still again.

“Does that one seem ridiculous to you?” Anthony asks.

“Not at all. We should remember our past. Especially our tendency toward destruction of beautiful things. Not that the planet was ever _beautiful_ when I saw it. But once beautiful, long before, in the old pictures and descriptions.”

“Is that why you kept these?” Anthony asks, reaching out to run his fingers along the thin scars on Azi’s chest. “To remember?”

Azi nods. They’d certainly be easy to remove with a quick procedure, but the thought never appealed to him.

“They’re the only part of my body that still looks like it used to, anyhow,” he says. “I’m quite a bit softer now, for one thing. And I could never imagine how my hair might look until it started growing out.”

In reply, Anthony runs his hand over Azi’s light curls. “Beautiful.”

Azi chuckles at that. He’s well aware that his hair is a bit odd looking, particularly next to Anthony’s arrestingly pretty auburn waves.

“I mean it. You’re so beautiful, Azi. I’ve thought so since we met.”

Azi’s heart does a little flip. He’s never cared much about his own appearance, but hearing those words from Anthony is surprisingly moving.

“Likewise, my darling.”

Anthony pulls him close, resting their foreheads together, and they lie in silence for a while before he speaks again.

“What are the chances? That our paths would cross?”

“Incalculably small,” Azi says softly. “But nothing this amazing is ever probable.”

***


	6. Date Night

The next time Anthony goes out for a night of work, he returns in rough shape.

Azi snaps awake on the sofa when he hears the door lock disengaged, and he goes over to it just in time for Anthony to stumble into him, grasping his shoulders for support.

“I’ve got you,” Azi says. “Where are you hurt?”

“It’s my hip … area,” he explains, catching his breath. “Something cracked in there, I think.”

“Oh, ouch. Did you walk all the way back?”

“No, I got a cab.”

“Good. Let’s get you into the bed.”

“Wait. I want to bathe first.”

“Anthony, you can barely stand.”

“I always wash first if I can. I need to be clean.”

“Alright,” Azi says, relenting. “I’ll help you undress.”

After his clothes are shed, Azi can see significant bruising on his pelvis and wonders if the damage is worse than Anthony realizes.

“Easy,” he says, supporting him as he steps into the shower.

“I’m okay. This is the easy part.”

His tone is gentle, reassuring, but Azi remains concerned as he steps away from the bathroom. To occupy the time, he goes into the treatment room and activates the lights, setting out a few pieces of equipment and making sure everything is in order.

He hears the water cut off shortly and hurries back to the washroom, where he finds Anthony pulling on the green robe. He gives him his arm, helping him stay steady as they walk together to the treatment bed.

Anthony winces as he climbs in.

“How bad is the pain?”

“Moderate,” Anthony says, though his brow is furrowed.

Azi gives him two doses of CN35, and then he’s pulling the robe partly open and eagerly scanning. As it turns out, Anthony’s hip is inflamed, but the more serious damage is a pelvic fracture nearby.

“This will take some time,” he says, getting the healing lamp calibrated for the first injury. “Feel free to sleep. And let me know if you need anything.”

“I’m alright,” Anthony says, and then he does doze off while the lamp goes to work.

Azi remains by his side all the while, glad of the fact that he can give him his undivided attention. He’s far too focused to think of napping, himself, but he’s relieved that Anthony is home and safe.

When the machine beeps its completion, Azi removes it and rescans, and Anthony's eyes open.

“Pelvis is back in good shape. Now we’ll get your hip taken care of.”

He recalibrates the machine and resets it over the hip, which shouldn’t take as long, and then turns his attention back to Anthony, who gives him a lazy smile. Azi smiles back, though he hopes Anthony won’t mind the question he’s going to ask in a moment when the lamp is finished.

The lamp beeps once again, and Azi moves to retrieve it, rescanning to confirm the hip is fully healed. Next, he takes up a salve.

“I’ll apply this to the bruising, if that’s alright.”

Anthony nods.

Azi does so, taking care not to press too hard, and then looks at him, keeping his expression neutral. “Were you penetrated?”

Anthony nods again, looking down this time.

“With your permission, I’ll examine that area as well.”

“That _area_ ,” Anthony repeats, rubbing a hand over his face.

Azi hates to make him so uncomfortable, and he realizes maybe the strictly medical approach is all wrong. Standing from his chair, he moves over to Anthony’s face, leans in and kisses his forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I know this isn’t fun. If you tell me there’s nothing to see, I’ll trust you.”

Anthony gazes up at him with sad eyes for a moment and then looks away.

“You should check,” he says softly.

Returning to the end of the treatment bed, Azi eases Anthony’s knees apart and uses a light to fully examine his pelvic area. There’s slight tearing that warrants a healing salve—Anthony nods when Azi offers to apply it.

“I can reapply this for you later, or you can do so yourself. It should only take a few applications.”

“Yeah, I’ve used that before. I normally do it myself.”

“Oh, good. Alright.”

He helps Anthony into a sitting position and they embrace.

“Please don’t be afraid to tell me about that part. I want to help you.”

“I know,” Anthony says, standing. “Just gotta get used to this. First time’s always the weirdest, yeah?”

Azi freezes in place.

“I mean, I _know_ you’ve seen everything already,” Anthony adds. “But first time in a healing session.”

Azi glances to the side, trying to choose his words carefully.

“No. What the f— _When_?”

“After I removed the parasite,” Azi says, feeling suddenly guilty. “I also checked for external damage.”

In response to that, Anthony’s smile goes wonky and then he’s overcome with laughter.

“Damn it! I didn’t _know_! Here the whole time I was thinking—ugh!”

“Sorry!” Azi says, laughing with him.

They have breakfast after that, and then Azi gets ready for work. When he’s dressed, Anthony pulls him into a goodbye hug.

“Are you going to be okay on low sleep?” he asks.

“Oh, heavens, yes,” Azi says, having not the slightest concern. “I’ve been awake for 70 hours without getting foggy, though it certainly wasn’t _enjoyable_.”

“Wow,” Anthony remarks. “Well, I hope you have a good day. I’ll see you later.”

“I’m already looking forward to that.”

As he takes the lift down to the infirmary, Azi holds happily in his heart the image of Anthony safe and cozy in bed. As a matter of fact, it should be easier to focus today than it would be if he were wondering when he’d see him again, wondering if he was alright. Yes, this is much, much better.

***

Just over a week later, Anthony finally agrees to go out to dinner with Azi. He’s still not feeling overly optimistic about the idea, but Azi lights up at the very mention of it, and he can hardly decline something that he’s clearly excited about.

Azi looks to Anthony for the selection of the restaurant, given that he’s more familiar with the station. After giving it some thought, Anthony settles on Giardino, one of the nicer places food-wise, even if the decor is cheesy and dated.

Neither of those words occur to Azi at all, though, because when they enter and he sees the pillars made to look like trees, the ceiling painted as a cloudy blue sky, the green “grass” carpet underfoot, and the faint sound of birdsong, he’s genuinely charmed.

“What a delightful theme,” he remarks as they’re guided to their table. “Like we’re on a picnic!”

Anthony just smiles, keeping his thoughts to himself.

When they’re seated across from each other in a cozy booth with warm lamplight, Azi beams, and then he takes notice of the wall beside them, which is decorated to look like a trellis covered in flowering vines—the boards cracked and crumbling and the cloth flowers faded with age.

“How sweet,” he remarks, reaching out to touch it before looking back at Anthony. “It may be old, but it was created with great care. That’s obvious.”

“I’m glad you like it. Hopefully the food doesn’t disappoint.”

“Do you come here often?”

“Here and there,” Anthony shrugs. “Though I normally opt for takeout.”

After they get their drinks, a small group is seated nearby, and Anthony awkwardly eyes them, thinking that one looks like a pleasure center worker he’s seen before, but perhaps not. He’d hoped they’d come too early for the dinner rush, but a third of the tables are full.

“Are you alright?” Azi asks.

Anthony nods. Azi reaches across the table and holds out his hand, which Anthony takes.

“Don’t think about anyone but me. I’m so happy we’re here together. You look lovely.”

Anthony nods again and squeezes his hand, but as the evening progresses, that proves to be easier said than done. By the time they’re eating, every table around them is occupied by lively guests, and Anthony can’t shake the feeling that _someone_ in here will recognize him in a bad way. He just hopes it won’t be someone who matters enough for this to backfire on Azi.

“Oh, that is absolutely divine,” Azi remarks about his pasta dish, oblivious.

Just then, a server passes by their table with yet another couple of guests, and one of them doubles back to face them—a tall, imposing man who seems vaguely familiar.

“Good evening, Dr. Fell,” he says.

“Oh! Good evening, Director Gabriel,” Azi replies, amicable as ever. “What a welcome coincidence.”

Anthony freezes, feeling his heart rate increase three times over. This is the same director he heard berating him for the parasite incident, he’s certain of it. And here Azi is dining with the same _hooker_ he saved.

“I see you’ve found your way to one of my favorite places on Eden.”

“Indeed! What a wonderful meal we’re having. Allow me to introduce Anthony Crowley.”

Anthony looks up, reluctantly, and manages to mutter, “Pleasure.”

“Likewise.” For a fleeting moment, the director gives him a curious look and then returns his attention to Azi. “Well, enjoy your evening. Nice to see you both.”

“All the same, take care!”

Just like that he’s gone, and Anthony feels himself coming down from that colossal cortisol spike.

“Pompous ass,” Azi mutters, taking a dainty sip of his drink.

“I couldn’t tell if he recognized me,” Anthony says.

“Oh? Have you met before?”

“No,” Anthony says, seeing Azi’s brow crease with confusion just after. “But he may have seen me in passing … or remembered my name?” Azi waves his hand dismissively. “Well, don’t worry about him. He’s been playing nice ever since 3H requested me.”

All Anthony can do is sit for a moment. He’d like to brush it off so easily, but the idea that the director might know about Azi’s relationship status and use it against him is tying his stomach in knots.

“Anthony? Is your food alright?”

Anthony nods. “Honestly, I’m really worried this is going to backfire on you in some way. Isn’t he the one who hired you? The same director who Dr. Hastur reported to?”

Azi sets down his fork, then, and reaches out for Anthony’s hand again. “Darling—”

He’s interrupted by yet another person standing beside the table. This time it’s a young woman, dressed in a sparkly gown, who has come over from a table loudly celebrating a birthday.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she says, and Anthony’s heart is pounding again. “But did I hear that you’re Dr. Fell?”

“That’s right,” he answers cheerfully.

“My mom had an appointment with you awhile back. You fixed her headaches, and she said you were the nicest doctor she’s ever had … I just wanted to thank you in person.”

“I remember her,” Azi answers fondly. “I’m so glad I was able to help. Your thanks isn’t necessary, but it is appreciated.”

With that, she’s gone, and Azi looks back at Anthony with a sly smile. “Are you still concerned about my job security?”

It’s not until they’re back at their flat that Anthony realizes something: When he’s out with Azi, he’s _not_ a hooker. He’s a _doctor’s partner_. And that is actually a nice thought. With the benefit of hindsight, it does make sense that Azi has a high enough standing to not be affected by the company he keeps. It’s not like his position is highly sought after; his higher-ups would probably do _anything_ to hang onto someone like him.

Another nice thought is that Anthony is fully recovered from his most recent work night, which means he’s in tip-top shape for a shag. They’re quickly on each other and kissing after the door shuts.

“Thank you for indulging me,” Azi says. “That was such a nice evening.”

“Of course. I’m glad you had fun. Sorry for the paranoia.”

“Always looking out for me,” Azi says, stroking his jaw and then kissing him again. “First time’s the weirdest, yeah?”

Anthony snort-laughs at that reference. “ _Wow_.”

It’s not long before they’re in their bedroom, Azi trailing kisses across Anthony’s bare skin after pulling his top off—far more hastily than he has in the past. That makes Anthony smile.

“I love you,” Azi whispers against him when they’re both undressed.

Anthony smiles and presses a kiss to his temple. “I love you, too.”

They once again do it with Azi on top, and this time, it goes much smoother. He lasts longer and finds a good pace, stroking Anthony’s cock as he thrusts. Anytime he hits at a good angle and Anthony cries out, Azi repeats that same movement for a while before easing off again, allowing the building pleasure to ebb and flow and drawing it out for both of them. Anthony has never felt so in sync with a partner before, has never felt so adored.

By the time he’s nearing his peak, their eyes are locked and Anthony’s whole body feels electric.

“Are you alright?” Azi asks, reaching out to wipe a tear from Anthony’s cheek that he hadn’t noticed before.

In reply, he nods, and then covers his hand and presses a kiss to the warm palm. “I didn’t know it could be like this.”

“I’m right there with you,” Azi says sweetly.

When Anthony comes, his orgasm crashes into him with an intensity he’s rarely known, and the shockwaves travel all the way to his fingertips and toes. He’s crying out and screwing his eyes shut, and just then, Azi is coming too, and he holds onto him, riding out both of their peaks with steady thrusts.

They lie in silence for a while afterward, Anthony running his fingertips over Azi’s back and hearing him hum.

“That’s nice,” he remarks.

“Good.”

“That was so beautiful,” Azi adds dreamily. “Is that silly to say? It felt beautiful.”

Anthony shifts to pull Azi into a kiss, never wanting him to feel silly about any part of this. He surprises himself with his answer, but the words come from deep within, a part of him he’s no longer afraid to speak from.

“I’ve never felt anything more beautiful.”

***


	7. Perspective

Over the next couple months, Azi feels that they settle into a good pattern in their new life together. He helps Anthony get ready for work, then assists him with undressing when he returns, guiding him to the treatment room when he’s injured or pulling him into his arms and kissing him when he’s not. For his part, Anthony also seems to be more comfortable with the arrangement, no longer reluctant to say when/where he’s hurting. Azi does his best to keep the medical talk in the treatment room and reserve their bedroom for positive conversation, though it’s not always possible to keep them so neatly separate.

One morning, after he’s left Anthony tucked in and cozy in bed after a work night that resulted only in mild soreness, Azi is greeted by a patient case that gives him immediate flashbacks: It’s a young woman with a cracked rib and a sprained ankle. He can’t help but recall Anthony’s appointments for those same injuries, but he clears his head as he steps into the exam room.

His heart sinks to see her: She’s covered in bruising and visibly shaken.

After introducing himself and administering pain meds, he sits with her while the healing lamps go to work. Up close, he discovers that the bruises are actually round suction-cup marks—after some gentle questioning, she tells him that she sold herself to a Nidarian, which have famously strong tentacles. It’s no wonder she’s in bad shape.

“Let me know if you feel any discomfort,” he says.

“Thank you,” she replies, nodding. “And thank you for … being so nice to me.”

“Well, of course, Shayla. I’m only here to help you.”

“I messed up,” she mumbles. “I shouldn’t have gone there—but I—”

Her heart rate is spiking, so Azi places a hand on her forearm to ground her. “You needed the money, yes?”

She nods again, tears falling.

“Listen,” he says. “You’re going to be just fine. Everything that happened tonight is behind you, and you only have forward to go from here.”

“I’ll _never_ do that again,” she says with conviction. “Never.”

“I’m glad to hear it. But if you ever need my help again for any reason, do come back and see me.”

After her session is complete, Azi sends her off with a salve for the bruises, and he finds that he can’t quite get her out of his mind. What, Azi wonders, was Anthony’s very first night like? How badly was he hurt that time? And how awful was it to know that he had no end in sight?

He considers discussing the appointment with Anthony later—leaving out any personal patient details, of course—but ultimately decides against it. Nothing about it would be news to Anthony, anyhow.

He settles, instead, on giving him a very long hug when he returns home.

“Hi,” Anthony says happily. “Long day?”

“Somewhat,” Azi says with a shrug. “Oh, I do need to ask you something.”

“Oh?”

“Later this week there’s going to be a … social gathering for the medical staff. We’re all encouraged to attend and bring our partners. Would you like to go with me? I know it won’t be the _most_ fun, but I’d enjoy having you there and introducing you to them. But no pressure at all, genuinely.”

“Well, sure,” Anthony says with a shrug. “If you really want me there, I’ll come.”

“Of course I do!” Azi hugs him again.

With that settled, he’s able to relax for the evening, and they talk over dinner and then watch a serial episode together while snuggling. Anthony runs his fingers idly up and down Azi’s arm for a while, and he seems to melt into the sofa.

Anthony turns to face him, smiling, and then kisses him. Azi relishes evenings like this one, when they can fully relax and enjoy each other’s company knowing that they’re both in for the night and they’ll fall asleep next to each other.

Up close, he also notices that a bruise on the side of Anthony’s neck is just as dark as it was this morning.

“Have you put any salve here?” he asks, wishing a second later that he hadn’t mentioned it.

“Oh … I forgot that one, actually. It doesn’t feel like anything.”

Azi hums and pulls him into another kiss. “Nevermind, then.”

***

A few days later, Anthony’s mind is swimming with a mixture of emotions as he gets dressed for Azi’s work event.

The thought of meeting his colleagues is a bit daunting, for one thing, and for another, he’s having to dress strategically since he’s—yet again—recovering from significant bruising after his last work night left him in bad shape. Donning an evening jacket and nice trousers does the trick, but he wishes he didn’t have anything specific to cover.

The event is taking place in a private room of a restaurant on the ground floor of the infirmary, so he’s meeting Azi there. When he arrives, he finds the room set up for mingling rather than dinner, with light refreshments and standing tables scattered beneath a wall projection that reads _Thank You 3H Staff._

“You look lovely!” Azi says when they find each other.

“You like it?”

“Oh, yes. Especially your hair.”

Anthony suspected as much—he’s left it down.

“If there’s anything I should adjust—”

“Nonsense,” Azi says quickly. “You look wonderful. I’m so happy you’re here.”

They’re greeted by a woman with short dark hair and kind eyes, whom Azi introduces as Dr. Nina Loqua, the head physician at this infirmary—when she’s moved on, he privately adds that she’s the best of the bunch and the perfect opposite of Dr. Gabriel in terms of both compassion and medical expertise.

A flurry of more introductions follows, with Azi greeting and briefly chatting with several other doctors and nurses he works with here. The way they all get on, Anthony could imagine that Azi has been here for years instead of months.

“Azi, this is Dr. Clarissa Hansen, from infirmary 2H,” Nina is saying, introducing a younger woman. “I don’t think you’ve met.”

“Ah, we haven’t!” Azi confirms. “A pleasure, Dr. Hansen.”

“Likewise,” she says. “I hear you’ve recently transferred over from 4H?”

“He did,” Nina replies before Azi can speak. “He was the one who preformed the alien parasite removal in 4H—we snatched him up just after.”

Anthony hopes he’s properly hiding the shock he feels at the mere mention of that surgery, but then, no one is really looking at him.

“Oh!” Clarissa exclaims, eyes wide. “Then the pleasure is all mine. Truly, your work has been a great inspiration.”

“Stars,” Azi starts, “I didn’t realize word had spread so far.”

“Is it true,” another person interjects, “that you _insisted_ on performing the surgery yourself, even though 4H was ill-equipped for the procedure?”

“Well, yes,” Azi says plainly. “There was clearly no time to spare for the patient in question. It was the only possible choice.”

“And the parasite had _never_ been seen in a human before?” asks another.

“To my knowledge, no. I think the bio-analyst had an exciting day.”

Polite laughter follows. A small group has clustered around them, now. Anthony had absolutely no idea that Azi was _famous_ for what he had done to save him. Although the discussion is a bit surreal, he can’t help but swell with pride to hear it.

“How did the patient come in contact with it?” a new voice asks.

“Prostitution, I thought,” says a softer voice. “Wasn’t it?”

“Out of respect for the patient’s privacy, I don’t think that part is important. I was very glad they arrived in time for me to help them, and I’m sure any one of us would have followed the same course of action.”

“Oh, don’t be humble, Azi!” Nina says with a hand-wave. “It’s not every day on Eden that we see an emergency eleven-hour surgery with an unprecedented condition _and_ a happy ending.”

The duration can’t possibly be right, Anthony thinks, but then he realizes Azi isn’t correcting it.

“Stars, eleven hours,” a younger doctor echoes. “Was anything in there _not_ damaged?”

“It was extensive, certainly,” Azi confirms. “I must add that the nursing team did an excellent job of keeping up with me after already pulling a long day due to the chemical explosion.”

A few gasps follow, but Anthony doesn’t hear the next few questions because he’s too busy trying not to crumple to the floor. _Eleven_ hours. He knew Azi had worked hard to save him, but he’d never even thought to ask how long it took.

“And the patient made a _full_ recovery?”

“Indeed,” Azi says more warmly. “I’m happy to say they did.”

“It was me,” Anthony chimes in, lifting his head and speaking clearly. “I was the patient. And yes, I’m fully recovered.”

Abruptly, the group goes quiet. Azi looks at him and takes his hand.

“He did the hard work,” Azi says, squeezing his hand. “Holding on all that time.”

“My apologies, Anthony,” Nina says. “If I had known—”

“It’s alright. I don’t mind talking about it. I wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for him.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, then, as people take awkward sips of their drinks.

“You knew each other,” someone pipes up. “Before the surgery?”

“We did,” Azi answers. “Anthony was already a friend.”

“Were you frightened?” someone asks Anthony directly.

He nods. “Never more so. But then he promised to help me, and I trusted him.”

***

A while later, they’ve made their escape from the party and found solitude in the elevator on the way back to their flat.

Anthony swiftly pulls Azi into a firm embrace, now that they’re finally alone.

“Anthony, I’m so sorry. I had no idea when I dragged you here that anyone would want to talk about that surgery, nevermind _everyone_.”

“No, Azi, it’s alright,” Anthony says, and his voice catches and his eyes blur now that he doesn’t have to fight the emotions anymore. “I’m so proud of you. I didn’t realize how exceptional it was.”

“Oh, darling, it didn’t feel exceptional to me at all. It was just what I needed to do.”

They’ve made it to their floor, then, and Anthony passes down the hall in a haze. He’s always known that Azi was a gifted doctor, but to hear the rest of them praising him, eager to ask questions and learn, has given him a new perspective entirely.

Back in their flat with his jacket shed, Anthony pulls Azi into his arms once more—this time kissing him deeply and then pulling back to look him in the eyes.

“What is it?” Azi asks. He really doesn’t get it.

“I never knew you worked for _eleven_ hours to save me,” Anthony says, swallowing just after. “How ridiculous that I brought you a box of fruit after.”

“Oh,” Azi says with a sad laugh. “Not ridiculous at all. I was so touched that you came in to see me. I thought of nothing else for the rest of the day.”

“Azi,” is all Anthony can say in reply, pulling him to his lips. He hears Azi sigh, feels his hands move to hold his waist, and Anthony cannot stand it anymore. “Take me to bed.”

“Anthony, you’re hurt,” Azi says, suddenly serious, gesturing to the dark bruises on his arm.

“It’s not bad. And I don’t care. I miss you.”

“But … I’m right here.”

Anthony smiles. “I know. I mean I miss _being_ with you. Making love.”

“Oh,” Azi says in sympathy, touching his cheek. “I miss it too, dear. You must know that.”

Anthony whines at that and falls upon him again, kissing him with fervor.

“Anthony,” Azi says, breaking away again. “I’m afraid it’s too soon.”

Anthony sees how worried Azi looks and eases away. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to push.”

“You’re not! I want the same thing, very much. It’s just that … you’ve been through so much pain already. If I made it worse in any way, I could never forgive myself.”

“Azi, listen to me,” Anthony says, taking both of his hands. “You don’t need to worry, alright? Sex with you is _nothing_ like what I do out there. Nothing at all. It’s only ever wonderful with you. And I trust you completely. I don’t mean that we have to do anything tonight, but know that I’m perfectly comfortable. I wouldn’t initiate if I weren’t.”

Azi responds to that by hugging him and lingering a while. Anthony rubs his back. After a while, Azi moves to kiss him again, and Anthony thinks he detects a new spark of passion there.

“You’ll tell me if anything ever feels less than good, yes?”

Anthony nods. “Of course.”

Azi kisses him again, slowly, letting his hands come to rest on his hips, and Anthony’s head is abruptly swimming with anticipation.

Azi has always been gentle with Anthony, but this time, he’s even moreso, touching him tenderly and pressing kisses to his skin while avoiding any bruised spots. Eager though Anthony is to get on with it, he understands that Azi needs this reassurance that he’s alright, and so he stays patient throughout, nuzzling against him and purring and telling him how nice everything feels.

When Azi is finally in place, fingers replaced by his cock, Anthony moans anew with pleasure and relief. He hears Azi do the same before he starts to move—slowly.

“Is that alright?”

Anthony smiles and nods, grasping his bum in encouragement, but Azi maintains the slow pace. Anthony finds that he doesn’t mind at all, though, since it allows him to savor the gradual build after going a while without. His mind goes blissfully blank as Azi continues rocking his hips, and Anthony loses himself to the feeling.

When he comes, it’s more drawn out than usual, crashing through his body with the initial impact and then a smaller aftershock.

Lying in the afterglow, Anthony recalls the surreal evening they had. He feels like saying something more to Azi about it, perhaps that he can never properly repay him, but his next thought is that it doesn’t feel right. Azi clearly doesn’t consider it to be some amazing feat, even if his colleagues do, and his surgical precision probably isn’t the thing he’d want to be praised for in this moment—plus, he’d almost certainly be uncomfortable with _any_ implication that Anthony feels indebted to him.

“What’s going on in there?” Azi says with a smile, tapping Anthony’s temple.

Anthony smiles back. “Just thinking about how lucky I am to be with you. I haven’t been lucky in a _long_ time. But maybe that was the universe balancing out.”

“Ah,” Azi says fondly. “I feel very lucky to know you, too. To be _here_ is more than I could have ever dreamed.”

Anthony pulls him into a tight embrace, wishing he didn’t have to let go. Wishing they could both be this happy all the time, and thinking perhaps that one day they will be.

But he knows life on Eden isn’t going to get any easier.

***


	8. Wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers! Just as a heads-up, this chapter contains the most graphic/extreme injuries of the entire fic. So if you find this one a little rough, please rest assured that you don't need to worry about a repeat incident, and know that I take my "happy ending" tag very seriously. ;) Thank you all for sticking with me thus far! I'm glad you're enjoying my little space opera. <3

_Three months later_

Anthony gets into the lift at their building and sinks to his knees, leaving a bloody streak on the wall with his hand. He tries and fails to take a deep breath when a flash of pain shoots through his chest.

He should probably go to the infirmary in this state, he knows. But he really doesn’t want to. He wants to be home with Azi and get in his own bed after treatment.

When the doors open on his floor, he pulls himself upright and makes his way down the hall, heart sinking to think of Azi’s reaction upon seeing him mangled—again. He’s had quite a few rough clients lately.

“Oh, no,” Azi says at the door, gently helping him inside. “My poor dear.”

Anthony collapses into him, unable to speak.

“I’ve got you. You’re home now. Do you want a shower?”

Anthony shakes his head. He knows that the question is Azi’s way of gauging his injuries, and he hates to give him that answer. But there’s no way he can bathe right now.

“Alright, let’s get you into bed. You’re going to be just fine.”

In the treatment room, Azi lifts him into the bed when Anthony finds that he can’t manage it himself.

“My ribs are the worst, I think. Hurts to breathe.”

“Here comes the CN35,” Azi says, and then four sharp stamps are applied to Anthony’s arm.

Within seconds, the pain melts away and he’s able to relax into the bed. The tears he’s been holding back fall freely in relief.

“I’ll do a full body scan, but I suspect you’re right about your ribs,” Azi says, petting his head. “You can fall asleep now, darling. I’ll take care of you.”

“Azi,” Anthony says, his voice now oddly flat, “I’m sorry … I’m _sorry_.”

“Oh, my love, you have nothing to apologize for. You don’t deserve any part of this. I’m so sorry that someone would do this to you.”

Anthony feels a kiss on his cheek and then drifts into a dreamless sleep moments later. He partly wakes at one point to feel Azi helping him reposition in bed, but sleep quickly overtakes him once again.

When he fully wakes sometime later, he has no concept of how much time has passed—except that he’s now in the bedroom with Azi lying beside him.

“Welcome back,” Azi says, stroking his arm.

“Did you finish already?”

“Oh, yes, hours ago. You spoke to me when I carried you in here, but you did seem groggy. I’m glad you were able to rest.”

Anthony sighs at that and then realizes how comfortable his chest is now and takes a long, deep breath. He feels Azi press a kiss to his shoulder.

“How do you feel?”

“Much better. Thank you.”

“Good. I think you’re in good shape now, but do come see me downstairs if anything feels off today.”

Anthony nods, and then the words click. “Are you leaving soon? Is it morning?”

Azi gives him a sad smile. “I’m afraid so, darling. I didn’t want to wake you.”

Anthony gets up to see him out, Azi taking an apple to eat in the lift on the way down since they slept through breakfast.

And then he’s alone in the flat, after seeing his partner for what felt like five minutes. That’s the shortest time yet. He sinks into the sofa and rubs his hands over his face. If he were still single, he’d leave this station now and seek out similar work somewhere else. He only chose Eden in the first place because he needed a station he could easily leave behind forever—it was never the _best_ choice. But it’s quickly becoming the worst.

But he’s not single. And Azi’s work is so important—to him and his patients. With a partner who can thoroughly tend to him each time, surely Anthony can see this through.

***

A week later, Anthony is heading home from a work night relieved to only feel minor discomforts. Nothing that Azi can’t heal in a few minutes. That thought has him eager to get home.

Turning on a block close to their flat, Anthony is suddenly facing a group of other humans. Two of them give him looks of disdain, so he doubles back to find another route, only to see a second group facing him from that direction. Turning again, he sees the first group coming closer. Several of them have lightning bolts tattooed on their necks—the placement and shape is consistent enough that it must symbolize something, but he has no idea what.

“I don’t want any trouble,” he says. “Just on my way home.”

“From where?” someone asks with clear disgust.

Anthony’s pulse quickens. They have him thoroughly outnumbered.

“Costume party,” he offers. “Pretty wild night.”

A few people laugh at that, and his spirits lift, but only for a fleeting moment before the tall one in front speaks.

“Costume party? Every week, eh?” He steps forward, cracking his knuckles in a way that might seem silly if it weren’t terrifying. “Do we look like fucking idiots, whore?”

“No, wait, please—” are the last coherent words Anthnoy manages to say.

***

Azi hasn’t been able to sleep on Anthony’s work nights anymore, so he’s fully awake when he gets an alert on his comm and swipes it open. It’s informing him that Anthony Crowley has been admitted to the infirmary with critical injuries.

“Oh, no,” he mutters, grabbing his lab coat and rushing for the door as swiftly as he can manage.

He’s been afraid of this day for so long. But at least Anthony made it back, and at least he’s done the right thing by going straight to the infirmary. At least he’s alive.

When he finds the correct exam room and steps inside, there’s Anthony’s pretty red hair and two nurses taking scans. All the wind is knocked from Azi’s body to see him, though, because he’s never once looked this bad. His whole face is bruised and bloody, both eyes swollen shut, and his pretty nose distorted into a dark blob.

“Anthony,” he says, coming forward and touching his shoulder. “It’s me. I’m here now.”

“Azi,” Anthony responds in a soft little sob, brow furrowed.

“We have all his scans, and he’s been given two doses of CN35,” says the nurse.

“Thank you. Let’s make it four,” Azi says as he begins to review the images.

The injuries are different than usual. They appear to be deliberate, blunt-force trauma—the sort someone might get from fists and boots.

“Anthony, can you tell me what happened? Was this an attack?”

Anthony nods sadly in reply, his lip quivering.

“I’m so sorry, dear. We’re going to get you fixed up. You made it back here. You did good.”

“Actually,” a second nurse pipes up. “A preacher brought him in. She said she found him like this.”

“Oh,” Azi says in reply, averting his eyes for a moment and composing himself. He doesn’t have time right now to think about Anthony lying on the ground all alone until a kind person came along and helped him. He doesn’t have time to think about him being left for dead.

Azi sets his focus squarely on Anthony’s treatment after that, reassuring him at every turn and going to work with the healing lamps as swiftly as possible. With the extent of the damage, he knows it will take several hours, and thankfully, Anthony is sleeping shortly after the extra pain meds kick in.

By the time they’ve treated all injuries, the swelling on his face has been reduced considerably, and Anthony is still resting peacefully. Azi stays by his side all the while, transferring his other patients to alternate doctors for the day. Now that he has time to think and process, and to be alone in the room with him, he drops his face to his hands and silently weeps. They cannot stay on this station any longer, he knows. Not after this. Not after Anthony was nearly murdered.

Anthony stirs after some time, now able to open his eyes properly, and smacks his dry lips. Azi quickly fetches him a drink of water, which Anthony eagerly takes through a straw.

“There you are,” Azi says just afterward, petting his hair.

“Azi,” he says, moving to sit up.

“Anthony, don’t—” Azi starts, but he’s already reaching for him.

Azi takes him into a gentle hug, rubbing his back.

“I’m sorry,” he says sadly. “I’m so sorry.”

Azi sighs, holding him the slightest bit closer. “I know, my darling, I know. You’re safe now.”

***

When he’s well enough to leave the infirmary later that day, Anthony can only think of one thing: a shower. Azi helps him undress in their bathroom, and moments later, he’s finally stepping under the warm water. He closes his eyes and lets it flow over his face, wishing to let his mind go blank, but in the darkness, he quickly recalls the terror he felt when he thought he might never make it back here again.

“Anthony?”

Anthony opens his eyes and looks. Azi is still standing beside the shower.

“Would you like some company in there?”

Anthony quickly nods at that, realizing at once that he doesn’t want to be alone. Azi undresses and steps inside with him, pulling him into a gentle embrace under the hot stream. They hold each other silently for a while, and this time, Anthony is able to relax in the comfort of Azi’s arms, feeling their hearts beating against each other’s chests.

After a while, though, he feels the slightest heave of Azi’s shoulders and the guilt of what he’s put him through comes creeping back. Anthony can’t think of anything to say that isn’t just another apology, so he holds him a bit tighter.

“I love you,” Azi says. “I’m so glad you’re still here.”

“Me, too,” Anthony manages. “I love you so much, Azi.”

***


	9. To the Stars

In the aftermath of the attack, Anthony seems to retreat into himself. After bathing, he feels too restless to sleep, so they go to the sofa. Azi steps into the kitchen to make some tea, and when he returns, he finds that Anthony hasn’t moved a centimeter from where he sat down.

“Here you go,” he says, setting his glass before him.

Anthony just nods, and then he gives him a curious look. “Are you not going back to work?”

“No, I transferred all my patients for the day.”

Anthony’s expression is blank, his sweet face still blotchy with some lingering redness and bruising.

“Listen,” Azi starts. “I promised you that I’d never ask you to stop doing this work, and I’m not asking that. But I am going to request that you not do it here any longer, not after what happened. I think it’s very clearly time for us to leave Eden.”

Anthony’s eyes are glistening now, and tears fall when he blinks.

“But … they _need_ you here.”

Azi’s confusion must be apparent on his face, because Anthony elaborates.

“The infirmary. Your other patients. How can I … take you away?”

Azi scoots closer and takes his hand. “There are plenty of good doctors.”

Anthony shakes his head at that, still more tears falling. “Not like you. You’re the best.”

“Good enough, then.”

Anthony wipes his eyes, and Azi fetches tissues from the table and moves them closer to him.

“I never meant for my … situation to throw a wrench in your career plans.”

Azi stifles his immediate reaction to that ridiculous statement, taking some time to think about what Anthony must be feeling.

“It’s true that I might’ve been content to stay here longer, if I hadn’t met you,” Azi says, rubbing his back. “But I did. And my life is only better for knowing you, for loving you, for being loved by you. I wouldn’t have it any other way. You mean _everything_ to me, Anthony, and if that’s a ‘wrench’ in my plans as you put it, it’s one I welcome wholeheartedly. This place isn’t safe for you anymore, and I’m not willing to be parted from you. So, we’ll leave, and we’ll figure out where to go next. Together.”

Anthony sighs, reclining on the sofa and lying his head in Azi’s lap. “I know where to go next.”

“Oh?”

“Balthazar,” he says with clear distaste. “It’s been my backup plan for a while. There should be … a lot of options there.”

“That’s settled, then,” Azi says with great relief, stroking Anthony’s hair. “We’ll go as soon as possible.”

***

Nearly a week later, Azi returns home from a visit to an antiques dealer to find Anthony preparing dinner. He seems in better spirits now, and Azi imagines it must be because he’s so close to finally leaving this dreadful place behind. The next direct trip to Balthazar Station isn’t for a few more days, though, which means Anthony has gone longer than usual without making a payment.

“That smells wonderful, darling,” Azi says, stepping into the kitchen.

“Good,” Anthony replies, greeting him with an embrace. “Did you find what you needed?”

Azi takes a moment to reply, gathering his thoughts. He had only given a vague excuse for the errand beforehand.

“I certainly did. In fact, I have good news. I couldn’t have you worried about making your next payment, so I sold a few things that will cover it for you.”

Anthony blinks in surprise, brow furrowed. “What did you— Oh. Oh, no. Tell me it wasn’t your _books_ , Azi.”

“They would have been cumbersome to travel with. And anyway, I’ll enjoy starting a new collection.”

Anthony shakes his head, eyes closed. “I wouldn’t have wanted you to—”

“I know. That’s why I didn’t mention it; I had already made up my mind. I want you to be able to heal and relax for now. You don’t owe me anything in return. Not even gratitude. Just please let me pay this one for you.”

Anthony looks at him with rosy eyelids and pulls him into a tight hug, which Azi returns.

***

With time to spare before they depart Eden for good, Azi has one final connection he hopes to make on the station. To do so, he pays a visit to a place he’s never been: the small interfaith temple in their zone.

Inside, he finds neat rows of empty benches, crumbling with age, and although there are fresh flowers throughout the chapel, he doesn't recognize the pleasant, spicy scent that seems to permeate the room.

He’s distracted for a moment by a person on their way out, who stops to draw a circle over their heart with one finger—Azi recalls seeing the same gesture a few times on Alruna.

“May I be of help to you?” asks a man in a gray robe.

“Perhaps. I’m looking for another of your clergy. Someone who helped an injured man to the infirmary last week.”

“That was me,” comes a voice to his left. “Did he recover?”

Azi turns and finds a tall woman in a matching gray robe, her long flaxen hair swept into a braid that reminds him a bit of the style Anthony sometimes wears.

“He did, thanks to your help,” Azi says, unable to keep a quiver of emotion out of his voice. “I wanted to personally thank you, preacher— Forgive me, I don’t know how to properly address you.”

“Meredith will do,” she says with a kind smile. “But your thanks isn’t necessary. I’m glad to know he’s well.”

“It does feel necessary to me, since _he_ means everything to me—I’m both his partner and his doctor, you see. I may not be a Believer myself, but I will remain deeply grateful to you for the rest of my days, Meredith. I wanted to meet you, before we leave this station, to tell you that.”

“Doctor,” she starts.

“Azi.”

“Azi,” she repeats, smile falling. “Of course. He was asking for you when I found him. I’m grateful, too, that I was in the right place at the right time, and given the opportunity to help. You say you’re bound for another place?”

“That’s right.”

“Then I’ll pray for your safe travels.”

“I appreciate that,” Azi says. “And … Meredith?”

“Yes?”

“May I embrace you?”

She smiles at that. “Of course.”

After leaving the temple, Azi resolves not to mention the visit to Anthony, at least for now. He worries that the whole experience is still too raw for him, and he doesn’t want to force him to relive it in any way.

***

Departing their flat for the final time, Anthony feels a bit surreal and numb to all of it. It’s odd to walk away from the one place on Eden he might actually miss. And it’s hard to feel very happy about going to fucking Balthazar Station, where the future is so uncertain.

“You alright?” Azi asks, carrying both of their luggage bags plus a backpack into the lift.

Anthony nods. “Yeah. Are you sure you don’t want me to help with those?”

“What? Oh, heavens, no. It’s nothing.”

Anthony nods, feeling a bit useless. He also still feels terribly guilty about the books Azi sold, as nice as it is to not have to worry about his next payment—and to be fully healed.

They take a train to the station’s main port, and Anthony leans into Azi as they ride, feeling him press a kiss to his hair.

“Almost there, dear. You’ll never have to come back to this awful place.”

Anthony takes his hand. “It wasn’t all bad.”

Azi squeezes his fingers. “Indeed.”

They ride silently after that, and Anthony lets himself picture the two of them living happily together after his debts are repaid and he’s free. He could take Azi to Centauri and introduce him to his mothers. Just the thought makes his chest a little tight—it’s been too long since he went home or had any proper correspondence with them. Since he didn’t want to lie and say he was doing great _or_ tell the whole truth, it had been hard to know what to say beyond brief confirmations that he was, in fact, alive, but still could not give a date when he’d be back. He hasn’t even told them about Azi yet.

After leaving the train and boarding the transport ship, they find their private cabin and settle in. Anthony goes to the loo while Azi gets the luggage put away. In the small en-suite, Anthony regards himself in the mirror, tired and anxious but at least finally unbruised.

Back in the main room of their cabin, Anthony finds Azi setting his jacket over a chair and embraces him from behind.

“Hello, darling,” Azi says, turning around, and the way he kisses stirs up longing in Anthony. It’s been a long while now since they were properly intimate.

“Azi,” Anthony says, unable to keep his voice from wavering.

“What is it, my love?”

“Azi,” Anthony repeats. “I’m not willing to be parted from you, either. I hope you know that... I’m imagining rosy futures for us now.”

“Good,” Azi says with a smile.

“You’ve done so much for me, and I love you so much,” Anthony goes on. “And we’ll have a happy, cozy, boring life someday. I promise.”

“Oh, Anthony,” Azi says, sweeping him into a tight hug. “I love you, too, my dear.”

There’s the faint shift of the ship entering hyperspace, then, with the familiar fleeting feeling of a static charge that jolts Anthony’s organs. Azi reacts with a little yelp.

“You alright?” Anthony asks, looking at him.

Azi nods, taking a breath. “Listen to me. For most of my life, from military school to the battlefield to university and then my medical training, I was merely doing what made sense to me at the time. There wasn’t any great passion guiding me forward. In hindsight, I can’t help but feel that all of it was just building toward the moment I met you. That’s when I truly began _living_. You mean everything to me, Anthony, and you’ve already brought me more happiness than I could have ever dreamed of. No matter what happens from here, I’m completely yours for as long as you’ll have me.”

Anthony seizes him after that, pulling him to his lips and kissing him with fervor, since there’s no way words will do. Azi matches his eagerness, and they fall into bed shortly after, tearing at each other’s clothes.

When they’re undressed, Azi is swiftly above him and trailing kisses across his form as he likes to do, from his mouth to his navel and then lower still. Anthony basks in it, achingly hard after going so long without. Azi seems to feel the same urgency, fetching the lubricant and coming quickly back.

The first time they’re joined, Azi is inside him as usual, and they’re crying out with their peaks only a short while later. The second time, they switch, and Anthony assumes the opposite role, which he’s only done a few times, partly because he lacks the stamina—he’s finished even more quickly than before. The third time, Azi is above him again, and he takes it slow, drawing it out for each of them, pressing sweet kisses to Anthony’s neck and pausing to stroke his cock at turns.

When Anthony finally comes this time, he’s in raptures, craning his neck and gasping as bright waves of pleasure slam into him, coursing through his entire body.

In the aftermath, all he can do is pant and laugh a little, as Azi presses lazy kisses to his arm and shoulder. They drift to sleep sometime later, resting in each other’s arms as the ship carries them toward their new home.

***


	10. Balthazar

The one time Anthony had been to Balthazar Station when he was younger, he’d found it overwhelming and pretentious. In the years since then, it seems the station has attempted to redefine those very words.

Passing by one of three main hubs means looking down on walls of glowing screens, with twinkling lights overhead, and crowds of people in all sorts of absurdly colorful attire. Anthony has to remind himself not to roll his eyes, to try to stay vaguely upbeat, since he’s the reason they’re relocating here.

He glances over at Azi and finds him wide-eyed with wonder, looking up at a large robotic butterfly that’s passing overhead.

“This is incredible!” he says, laughing.

Azi pauses to make his way over to the railing overlooking the square, so Anthony follows. The courtyard below looks like a massive celebration, with dancers and floats and people enjoying treats and music, but it’s just an average day on Balthazar.

“I had no idea such places existed,” Azi adds with a happy laugh.

_It gets old fast_ , Anthony wants to say. Instead, he tries to look at it with the same wonder. It does have its novelty, but Anthony feels too old and tired to appreciate it.

Their new flat is above one of the station’s three large infirmaries—one for each double-hub. It has a decent view of a side street, which Anthony is quietly happy about. He can’t imagine looking down on a wild party every single day.

Thanks to the request Azi put through, the second bedroom is already set up for private treatment, and everything else looks as expected.

“Well,” Azi says, pleased, collapsing onto the plush sofa. “This is home for a while.”

Anthony takes his place next to him and leans in, slipping his arms around Azi’s waist. He feels Azi’s hands smoothing over his hair and then removing the tie so that his curls fall loose around his shoulders and Azi can run his fingers gently through the locks. When he shuts out everything else and just sits here with Azi, it does feel like home. At least as much as any random flat could.

***

The following day, after Azi has left for his first day at his new infirmary, Anthony sets out to explore. Balthazar is somewhat more tolerable, and less neon, in the daylight cycle, with tourists mostly out for shopping or sight-seeing, and everyone else just minding their own business.

He passes through the avenues of bars and nightclubs just to get the lay of the land, and it’s even more glitzy and excessive than he remembers. But that’s the draw of this place, for so many. Passing by a group of intoxicated people cheering in some sort of celebration, he shakes his head—it’s one thing to have resorted to a party station, but it’s another to think that he’s dragged Azi into it.

Back in the flat, he gets dinner ready, feeling a little badly that they aren’t going out together yet, and fretting a bit about how uncertain his evening is going to be. The idea that Balthazar might _not_ work out is even worse than thinking that it will.

He pulls Azi into a hug when he’s back. “How was your first day?”

“Oh, it was alright. Lots of introductions and forms and policies and not many patients, but that’s just how it goes.”

“Right. The boring part.”

“Exactly. How was yours?”

“Fine,” he says with a shrug. “Dinner is almost ready.”

Azi gives him a look, easily gauging his nerves. “Will you be able to eat?”

“Maybe a little. I’m actually pretty hungry.”

As they eat, Azi eases the tension by talking about the other doctors he met and the much newer equipment at the infirmary, as compared to Eden. Anthony is grateful for the distraction, and glad that he only needs to nod along. All the while, though, dread pools in his gut and it’s tinged with guilt, still, at the thought that he’s brought someone as brilliant as Azi to this thoroughly ridiculous place.

After dinner, when he’s dressed and made up, he takes a long breath. Azi takes hold of his shoulders and gives him a pointed look.

“You’re going to be fine,” he says, in the same way he would if Anthony were injured. “Maybe it’s different here, but you’ll get the hang of it. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself to master it straight away. And do be careful, please.”

Anthony nods. “Always.”

Once he’s out and walking, he feels an odd sense of relief. The moment he’s been dreading all this time is finally here, and he can get this first night over with.

The same avenues that he explored during the day are barely recognizable in the night cycle, with bright screens and holograms and people outside handing out freebies and beads and other incentives to passers-by. He realizes as he goes that his outfit isn’t a standout at all in this place, and he’s wondering how he can brand himself as available when an ad on one of the screens catches his eye.

After a slideshow of scantily clad models in extravagant makeup, he’s instructed to check something called “personal listings” in the local net. Taking out his comm, he locates it pretty swiftly and his jaw drops when his suspicions are confirmed: There’s an entire network of personal listings for prostitutes for hire, organized by those in closest proximity to his location. Lots of their ads look professionally shot and show the people waving and posing as he scrolls by.

“Hey baby,” one of them says, apparently having paid for audio. “New in town? Let me show you the best night of your life. Tap me right here for a first time disc—”

Irritated, he swipes off of that page entirely and pockets his device. How the fuck can he compete with all that? The idea of having a frilly photoshoot and listing cutesy little ads just to appeal to wealthy strangers is revolting. Maybe he’s not cut out for this place after all.

As he keeps walking, though, something else dawns on him: For the most part, there are only humans around on these streets. He expected more of an even mix, but he's only seen a couple aliens since he started. Maybe he just needs to find those bars, and the competition won’t be so steep. Maybe.

Passing by a few blocks to try to get out of the human-dominant zones, he passes by a few Orycters and starts to feel more optimistic. Turning down a new avenue, farther away from the hub, he actually spots a furry blue Ursid having a private chat with a human, and he thinks maybe he’s getting warmer, but he sees the two of them just sit down and start smoking together.

His heart sinks. Another dead end. Stopping on a corner in front of a large building with dark windows, he pulls up the map of the station to get his bearings. He knows he can’t give up just yet.

He’s only been standing there a few minutes when someone taps his shoulder, and he turns to find a very tall lizard looking down at him—an Amblyrh'yn, with dark green scales covering their reptilian body. They grunt something at him, and their translator kicks in a moment later.

_Price for three hours?_

Anthony blinks. He normally only offers a single hour, but it’s not like he can be picky today. Trying his luck, he quotes three times his normal price, prepared for the lizard to laugh in his face.

Instead, they hold up their comm for transfer, and he holds out his wrist. The payment, in full, is confirmed a moment later.

“Wow,” Anthony says out loud, hearing the translated grunts just after. “Well, I’m all yours—”

The lizard holds out a collar with a chain leash, nodding eagerly.

“Okay then,” he says, reluctantly buckling the collar around his neck. “That’s new.”

Just as it’s in place, the lizard is tugging him forward, up the steps toward the strange, dark building, and Anthony scrambles to keep up. He can’t imagine what they’re going to do in a public place, but with the amount of money he just made, he’s not about to protest.

As it turns out, nothing could have prepared him for what he sees upon stepping through the door. He’s standing in a lizard nightclub of sorts, extremely warm and balmy, with lounge pools and flat furniture throughout. All around are other lizards enjoying drinks and happily grunting and even dancing to music that sounds to Anthony’s human ears like something out of a nightmare.

And then things get _weird_.

As his lizard client greets others and they turn and notice Anthony, their expressions shift. They look … excited. One of them comes over cooing and starts petting his head, running their long nails through his curls. When they jut out their tongue and touch his cheek, though, the client tugs his chain and swats them away. The other lizard only laughs and returns to their seat. Anthony’s client continues deeper into the club, then, and all the while, lizards turn and hum and coo and reach out to pet him. He realizes as they go that his client is walking with a proud posture; all this is part of what they paid so much for. So, not too bad so far.

And then he sees the cages. They’ve reached the center of the room, where there’s a platform stage, and all around it are small, shiny cages, each holding another leashed human. He considers bolting now, giving a refund and running out of this place and never returning, but then he makes eye-contact with one of the caged people. It’s a young woman with long blue hair and glowing eyes, and she gives him two thumbs up, smiling wide. Looking more closely at the others, none seem to be in any distress, and most are dressed in an equally flashy manner, so maybe this is alright. He willingly ducks down and enters an empty cage, dropping to his knees on the cushion inside, and hoping that it won’t be a choice he regrets. The client fastens his chain to the top, pets his head affectionately, and then shuts the little door.

Glancing to his side and trying not to panic, he finds an attractive woman in a glowing dress. She gives him a reassuring smile and a wink, and then she turns her attention to the front of the cage, where a lizard has walked up with a drink. At the sight of it, she starts licking her lips and making _mmmm_ noises, and then the lizard pours it through the bars directly over her head, soaking her hair while she holds her mouth open to get as much as possible. Anthony is slack-jawed as he watches this, wondering if maybe he was drugged at some point in the evening and this is all just an intense hallucination.

And then his client walks up to his cage with a similar drink. He glances over at the woman, and she nods in urgent encouragement. He definitely doesn’t want to make the client angry, so he plays a long, nodding and _mmm_ -ing and then holding his mouth open as the liquid rushes down, finding it to have a pleasant fruity taste.

Some time passes in that way, with lizards standing around watching while others buy drinks for the caged humans who eagerly lap them up. After a while, one lizard walks over to a cage at the other end of the stage and lets their human out, and Anthony watches the girl with blue hair jump up and clap when she’s free. Her client takes hold of her leash, then, and they disappear into another room.

Anthony’s nerves come back in full force wondering what that means, but he looks over at the woman next to him again and finds that she only looks bored. She catches his gaze and gives him a thumb up, raising her eyebrows in question. He returns the gesture and nods, though he doesn’t feel _good_ about any of this.

His client reappears sometime later to open his cage and remove him, leash first, and then he’s being led to the mysterious other room. It turns out to be a more private area, with secluded booths, and his client finds an empty one, enters, and shuts the door behind him. The walls of the small room mute the music a bit, and that’s a pretty nice change for Anthony’s ears, but he’s still not sure what’s going on. The lizard takes his wrist again, confusingly, and then submits a new payment in about ten percent of the first.

“Wow,” Anthony says again, because he can’t think of anything else.

The lizard grunts. _Happy_ , their translator says, and then they poke at the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, yes,” Anthony agrees, forcing an awkward smile. “Happy!”

And then they start petting him all over with their smooth, scaly hands, seemingly taking care not to touch him with the claws. Shortly, they begin to remove his clothing, and they’re apparently pretty experienced with that, having no trouble with the zippers and setting everything neatly aside. Once he’s nude, they return to touching him, and then the _licking_ starts.

When he emerges from the booth sometime later, clothed and unleashed and absolutely coated in thick saliva, he finds that the crowd has thinned and makes his way quickly to the exit. Back on the street and once again in reality, he pulls up his account to confirm he wasn’t imagining any of those payments and sees the largest number he’s ever managed in a single night.

At that moment, all he can do is laugh.

“Hey,” comes a voice beside him. It’s the woman with the glowing dress. Her hair, pulled up into two buns, looks as wet as his own.

“Hey,” he says back, glad to be able to hear each other.

“First time?”

He nods. “I’m sure that was obvious.”

“I saw the fear in your eyes,” she says, grinning. “I’m Anathema.”

“Anthony,” he answers.

Before their conversation can continue, they’re surrounded by a group of cheering people—the others from the cages.

Anathema smiles and shakes her head. “They’re a rowdy bunch, but they’re fun.”

“I got _goodies_ ,” the short girl with blue hair says, holding up a packet of orange pills.

The others, except for Anathema, gasp in excitement and hold out their hands.

“We’re going to Zion, right?” one guy asks.

“Yeahhhh!” blue hair screams with a pill on her tongue.

“What’s Zion?” Anthony asks no one in particular.

“Only the _best_ human club on Balth,” says a tall, bald woman, leaning on Anathema’s shoulder as she takes her own pill with flourish. “You in?”

Anthony realizes, belatedly, that he’s also being offered a pill.

“Oh, no thanks. Maybe next time”

“It was his first time here, guys,” Anathema says. “It’s a lot to process.”

“Oh my STARS I’m so JEALOUS,” says blue hair. “That first time is such a _wild_ ride.”

“Wild is a good word,” Anthony agrees, and the others laugh.

With that, they’re heading in separate directions, and Anathema waves goodbye. “See you around.”

***

As he heads home in an odd daze, Anthony realizes he probably should have tried to get more information from them about the work they do. He could have asked Anathema for any tips on the trade, but his mind was spinning too much to think of any before he was sitting alone in a train.

When he’s back at the flat, Azi greets him at the door as usual.

“Hi!” he says, reaching out for him before Anthony can warn him not to.

“Hi. I’m fine; I just need a shower.”

“Yes … you do,” Azi says, looking curiously at the goo on his hand. “I take it you had some success?”

Anthony nods. “I did ... You know, I don’t normally tell you about it, but I think this time I _have_ to.”

“Oh? Alright!”

After Anthony is finally, blessedly clean and wrapped in a bathrobe, they sit on the sofa together and he gives Azi a play-by-play of the bizarre outing. He enjoys the way Azi laughs with him at the absurdities, but even more than that, it’s strangely cathartic to share a work night with him in such detail.

“Well, this place is certainly full of surprises,” Azi remarks. “Do you think you’ll go back again?”

“I’m trying to decide,” Anthony admits. “It was pretty fucking weird, but the pay was good, and I guess it’s not too dangerous if they have regulars?”

Azi nods.

“What do you think?” Anthony asks.

“Oh, I could hardly counter your opinion of it. If you’re not too uncomfortable, you could try it a couple more times just to see if it’ll work?”

Anthony nods. “Yeah, that’s true. And it can’t possibly be the only option out there.”

Azi leans over to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’m glad your first night went reasonably well.”

Anthony moves to kiss him properly in reply.

“Did you _want_ to go out with the others when they asked?” Azi wonders just after.

“Oh,” Anthony says. “I don’t know. They were young. And I knew you’d be waiting for me.”

Azi smiles. “Well, don’t be afraid to have some fun out there, alright? It doesn’t have to be all business.”

Anthony nods at that. “Speaking of fun, I can take a few days off now without worrying about money, and we can go exploring together, yeah?”

“Yes! I’d like that.”

***


	11. Written in the Stars

Azi is tasked with choosing the first restaurant they’ll visit for dinner on Balthazar, and he’s wholly overwhelmed by the immense selection in the guides, so he asks a colleague in passing one day—Pollu, a friendly nurse who has lived on Balthazar for quite some time.

“Well, what kinds of food do you like?” Pollu asks with their signature charm.

“Gosh, I’ll try anything ... That doesn’t help you, though.”

Pollu chuckles. “Okay. What kind of _atmosphere_ do you want?”

Azi thinks that over for a moment. “Oh! You know, there was this sweet little place on Eden that was done up to look like a nature scene on a planet. Very clever.”

“Hmm,” Pollu says, cocking their eyebrow in a playful way. “Are you alright with it being _ultra_ romantic?”

“Absolutely!” Azi beams.

“Bingo,” Pollu says, grinning. “I know just the place.”

That evening, as Azi and Anthony dress for dinner in their nicest outfits, Azi is bursting with excitement. It’s so wonderful to think that they’re finally getting out together in their new home, and doubly wonderful to think that Anthony will be able to relax and enjoy it now that he’s got his next couple payments covered.

“You look stunning,” Azi says as Antony emerges in his wine-colored top and dark trousers, paired with shiny black heels that make him a bit taller. His hair is side-swept to show a sparkly ear cuff, and Azi always goes weak at the knees to see him this way.

“Thanks,” Anthony says with a little laugh. “You’ve seen it all before.”

“Well, I love it,” he says, kissing him.

“You look very dashing, yourself.”

Azi can’t help but feel a little proud. Ever since he’s had the chance to enjoy fashion, he’s embraced it, and his current ensemble of his cream-colored dinner jacket and shimmery bowtie is one of his favorites.

Catching the train just outside their flat, they’re quickly whisked toward the restaurant. Amongst the other travelers, their clothes don’t seem the least bit noteworthy, but Azi hardly notices the rest of them anyway, for how he can’t stop looking at Anthony—who sees him staring and smiles, taking his hand as they sit side by side.

Despite the station’s size and the restaurant being a hub over, they arrive quickly thanks to the remarkably efficient travel system.

Not wanting to spoil the surprise, Azi had taken Pollu’s recommendation at their word and simply made a reservation at a restaurant called Written in the Stars. But even if he _had_ peaked at photos, nothing could have prepared him for the magic of stepping through the door.

“H-heavens and stars above,” he says under his breath.

“Wow,” echoes Anthony.

The place looks like an enchanted garden from a fantasy film, or perhaps a dream. Every table Azi can see from the door is nestled in its own round booth, hugged by what appear to be actual wooden trees with winding branches bearing pink blossoms and glowing lanterns to provide the table lighting. Above them, the ceiling is obscured by an arrestingly pretty sky simulation, with an impossible amount of sparkling stars that shift and shimmer as patches of puffy gray clouds roll over, glowing with starlight.

As they’re led to their table by a host, Azi has Anthony’s hand in a firm grasp, partly in excitement and partly to maintain his anchor to reality. The restaurant, if it can even be referred to by that simple term, only grows more extravagant as they walk deeper inside: There’s a stream running through the center of the floor that leads to a drop-off and becomes a cascading waterfall, with more tree tables stair-stepped down the hill on either side and around a picturesque lake at the base. Above, in the sky, Azi’s eyes find the brightest spot—a glowing moon, spilling ethereal white light into the clouds around it. Around them, in the air, faint little floating lights twinkle and then vanish again, and Azi can’t quite seem to catch sight of one long enough to tell what they are.

Their table is near the lake, giving them a nice view of the hill and waterfall. Stepping into the booth, the flowering tree branches and lanterns above are even more beautiful up close. Azi can see now that Pollu was actually _underselling_ the romantic vibes with their use of “ultra.”

When he finally tears his eyes away from the scenery and looks at Anthony, he finds him happy and rosy-cheeked.

“Ah!” Azi says, triumphant. “I knew you couldn’t _possibly_ hate this place.”

Anthony laughs at that and nods, relenting. “It’s beautiful. I do feel a bit underdressed, though.”

“Well, your date thinks you look perfect.”

“That’s all that matters to me,” Anthony says sweetly, leaning in for a kiss.

Perhaps it’s something about the insane ambiance, or maybe it’s the semi-privacy the booth offers, but something comes over Azi and he can’t seem to stop kissing him for a while. That is, until their server appears and takes their drink orders.

In the space that follows, Azi looks at Anthony, and they laugh together.

“I’m really glad we’re here,” Anthony says, and Azi takes his double-meaning.

“Me too, darling.”

Just then, cheers erupt from somewhere nearby. When their server comes back around with the drinks, Azi can’t help but be curious.

“Is there a celebration?”

She takes a moment to parse his meaning. “Oh, yes. There’s a newly engaged trio just there. Very happy night for them.”

“Oh, how lovely,” Azi remarks. He can only imagine the number of proposals that happen here.

After they place their meal orders, Azi has moved on from that thought, so he’s confused when Anthony asks, “Is that something you want?”

“Hmm? Is what?”

“Marriage,” Anthony says, perhaps a bit hesitant.

“Oh,” he says, finally connecting the dots and working out how to respond. “It’s certainly a lovely thought, though not something I’d ever insist upon.”

Anthony smiles at that. “I know you wouldn’t. I’m just asking if you _want_ it. Someday.”

“Someday,” Azi repeats, taking a sip of his drink. “To be completely honest, I have given it some thought since we’ve been together, and I like the idea... But all I really _want_ in the future is you. Anything more, someday, is a bonus.”

Anthony nods at that, and Azi hopes it was a good answer.

“Do _you_ want it?” Azi asks.

Anthony meets his gaze, eyes sparkling in the lantern light, and then faintly nods.

“I never have before,” he says. “Never wanted that with anyone else, never even really thought about it. So it feels strange to say, but yes. I do think I want it. With you.”

Abruptly, Azi’s heart is pounding, because he knows he’s finally about to confess something he _probably_ should have said a long time ago. “It’s new for me, too.”

“Yeah?” Anthony asks with a smile.

“Well, yes,” Azi says, and then he suddenly feels overly warm. “But I’ve never actually been with anyone else.”

Anthony blinks, his smile falling. “What?”

Their first course arrives, sitting untouched before them.

“Never really sought it out, to be fair,” Azi says, scrambling to rescue the moment and certainly failing. “When I was young, I was focussed on other things, and then on Alruna, I threw myself into my studies and avoided distraction, but I also never met anyone who made me _want_ anything in particular, and oh … gosh, I’m rambling.”

“Azi,” Anthony says, eyes a bit shiny.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spoil the moment.”

“When we … that was the first time you’d _ever_ —”

Azi nods. “Yes. Regardless of how you fill in the blank, yes.”

Anthony nods, looking down and pressing his lips together, as though to hold in a torrent of emotion. “Why didn’t you say?”

“I didn’t want you to feel any pressure,” Azi admits, chest aching. “I know how foolish that sounds, now. But I was afraid you’d feel like you had to … _educate_ me. I wanted everything to be comfortable between us.”

Brows furrowed in sympathy, Anthony reaches out to take his hand. “Always looking out for me.”

Azi squeezes his hand. “I _should_ have told you.”

“I hope I never pushed you into—” Anthony starts, and Azi quickly shakes his head.

“No. Not ever. You were _wonderful_.”

“I suppose I should have wondered. The signs were there, in hindsight. I just didn’t see.” Anthony pauses, then, and oddly, starts to laugh. “I thought you just _really_ liked kissing.”

Azi laughs with him, partly in relief. “I do! As I’ve discovered!”

“Fuck!” Anthony drops his head into his hands, laughing harder.

After they belatedly enjoy their first course, Anthony scoots a tiny bit closer in the booth and slides his arm around Azi’s waist.

“Love you,” Anthony says softly.

“I love you, too,” Azi replies, and they kiss again.

In the silence that follows, Azi finds that some lingering guilt has pooled inside him.

“Anthony?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry if I hurt you. By withholding that.”

“No, Azi. Look at me. I’m sorry you were ever afraid to tell me. It wouldn’t have changed anything I felt or wanted; I just would have understood you better.”

He presses a kiss to his temple, then.

“Listen to me,” he goes on. “When this is all over—when I’m free, I mean. And I can put this kind of work behind me, I’ll have an important question for you, alright?”

Azi feels a rush of emotion at that, too strong to contain. “Oh, darling.”

“I’m going to tell you something now that I’ll repeat then,” Anthony goes on. “I am _so_ honored and so lucky to be the person you want, and I’ll be yours as long as you’ll have me.”

Azi comes fully undone at that, and Anthony holds him there a while under their pretty little tree. For a moment, the extravagance of the moment evaporates, and it’s just the two of them, floating in a garden in their own corner of the universe.

When he comes back to reality, Anthony takes up a napkin and dabs Azi’s cheeks, and then they continue their meal. Each course is uniquely delicious, and by the time dessert arrives, they’re talking and laughing and reacting with awe at the decadent treats.

***

On the way back to their flat afterward, their arms are perpetually entwined. Anthony can’t seem to stop looking at Azi, knowing what he now knows. In hindsight, so many things fall into place—particularly how shocked Azi seemed when Anthony had confessed that he returned his feelings. The day seems at once long ago and fresh in his mind.

When they’re back home, Anthony wastes no time in sweeping Azi into his arms. He reflects, in hindsight, all the times Azi approached their intimacy very cautiously, frequently checking to be sure Anthony was alright, and how Anthony might have done the same if he’d known that Azi was new to all of it.

They end up on the sofa, with Anthony straddling Azi’s lap, kissing him and thinking about the first time they kissed, also on a sofa back on Eden. And their first-ever dinner they’d shared shortly before that, when Azi had been brave enough to tell him the truth, even though the feeling itself had been brand new to him.

Anthony pauses then, leaning back just enough to look at him and touching his face.

“What is it?” Azi asks.

Anthony shakes his head. “Thank you.”

Azi blinks. “What for?”

“For this. You made this happen. We’re together because of you. I never could have been the one to initiate— I might have let you pass me by.”

Azi pulls him into a new kiss. “I can hardly take all the credit. When you had the courage to give me a chance.”

Anthony is struck by that word, as though they were sharing the same thoughts a moment before. They resume their affection, grasping at the fabric of each other’s tops, when Anthony gets an idea.

He leans back again, looking at Azi with a smile this time, and takes his hands, moving them away from his torso.

“Let me start,” he says, reaching for the buttons on Azi’s shirt and undoing them while keeping eye-contact.

A hint of color rises to Azi’s cheeks, and Anthony inwardly celebrates. He’s going to make sure that the pretty restaurant isn’t the only reason this night is memorable. When he has the shirt fully undone, he leans in to press his lips to Azi’s chest, trailing kisses in the same way Azi normally does for him.

He continues in that way, up to his neck and then down each arm, pulling the shirt away as he goes. When it’s fully removed, he kisses Azi’s lips once more and then stands to undress before him.

Azi starts to follow, but Anthony holds out his hand.

“Wait. Just … stay there.”

Azi gives him a curious look, resettling into the sofa. Anthony pulls off his own shirt, then his trousers, all the while attempting to look seductive rather than ridiculous.

When he’s unclothed, he sinks to his knees and leans forward, running his fingertips up Azi’s thighs and planting a kiss below his navel. He hears a small gasp in reply and begins to undo his trousers.

“Oh,” Azi says, apparently catching up.

“Is this alright?”

Azi gives him a quick nod, but his wide-eyed stare suggests some anxiousness. Anthony raises up off of the floor to lean forward and kiss him again.

“You sure?” he asks just after.

“Oh, yes,” Azi says with happy enthusiasm, “definitely. Please continue.”

“Good,” Anthony says, pecking his mouth again. “You’re stunning like this.”

“Likewise,” Azi says, a bit breathless.

Encouraged, Anthony returns to his lap, undoing his trousers with haste now and finding him achingly hard—curved and scarlet and already moist at the tip. He’s not sure how he didn’t notice while working the zipper.

He gives Azi a quick little smirk and then gets to work, taking the head into his mouth and flicking the slit with his tongue. Azi whimpers in response, taking a firm grasp of his shoulder. Taking his cock just a bit deeper, Anthony wraps his hand around the base and gives it a squeeze, feeling it throb in response, and repeats that motion in rhythm as he moves his head.

With the sounds Azi is making, Anthony gathers that he doesn’t have a long window before Azi finishes, so he paces himself, pausing to slowly stroke him before resuming. All the while, Azi’s grasp on his shoulder holds steady.

“Do you want to finish like this,” Anthony asks after a while, “or should I go get the lube?”

Azi looks at him with hazy eyes.

“ _Completely_ up to you,” Anthony adds quickly, before he can deflect the question.

“Oh,” Azi says with a bashful smile, “well, in that case … maybe you could … go get it.”

Anthony smiles back, bracing himself on Azi’s knee as he stands. “Alright. Don’t move.”

He hurries into their bedroom and fetches the jar, feeling the slightest bit awkward about running while nude and then deciding not to care, making it back to the sofa in record time.

Climbing back into Azi’s lap, he hands him the jar with a flourish. “Care to do the honors?”

Despite that certainly being the worst thing anyone has ever said about lubricant, Azi remains unfazed, removing the lid and dipping in two fingers. Anthony is already so aroused that he opens up easily, letting his head loll back and fucking back onto Azi’s fingers.

“Ah, fuck, I’m ready.”

“Are you sure? It’s only been a minute.”

In reply, Anthony kisses him—hard. “I’m sure.”

They moan in unison as Azi’s fingers are replaced by his cock, and Anthony swiftly starts to rock his hips.

In this state, neither of them last long, but it doesn’t matter. They’re panting and then crying out and then laughing, and they lie holding each other on the sofa for some time before they gain the energy to get up and shower together.

That night, before he falls asleep, Anthony thinks back to the conversation and the restaurant, and the love of his life lying beside him, and he smiles. A bumpy road may have led him to this moment, and there are certainly more challenges ahead, but tonight, he’s happy—and exactly where he wants to be.

***

Anthony sleeps late the next day and wanders into the kitchen around lunch time, still basking in the glow of their date.

Just then, his comm buzzes and he finds that Azi has messaged him a string of hearts. A bit odd, since he's never done that before, but he must be in a good mood as well. Anthony responds in kind, with a second string of hearts.

A moment later, his comm buzzes again.

_Are you at home?_

Anthony blinks, even more confused now.

_Yes?_

_I have lunch free if you’ll be in a while_ , Azi sends.

Anthony smiles at that, pleasantly surprised.

_Come on then!_

A short while later, Anthony hears the door open and calls out from the kitchen. “Not many choices but we have some stuff for sandwiches if you want—”

He’s cut off by Azi pulling him into his arms and kissing him like they haven’t seen each other in days.

“Hi,” Azi says just after.

“Hi?” Anthony says, still surprised.

“I can’t stop thinking about last night.”

Anthony smiles. “Me, too. It _was_ a good night.”

“I don’t think _good_ quite covers it,” Azi says, cheeks rosy. With that, he moves to kiss Anthony’s neck—passionately.

“I take it we’ll be returning,” Anthony says.

“Returning?” Azi asks, suddenly confused. “We’re here already.”

“Wait,” Anthony says, now equally confused. “What _part_ of last night are we talking about?”

“Are you joking?!” Azi asks, incredulous.

“I’m not,” Anthony says, apologetic. “I mean, we had a great date and a good conversation ... and a nice time back here…?”

Azi gives him a look of exaggerated frustration. “The whole evening _was_ nice, but I am _referring_ to the part of the evening when my _gorgeous_ boyfriend gave me a … _striptease_!”

“Oh,” Anthony says in surprise, finding that word a bit generous for what he did. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“Liked it?! Good heavens, I’ve never been so … _inspired_!”

Anthony laughs, both in surprise and at how flushed Azi’s face is. “Come here.”

With limited time on Azi’s lunch break, they move swiftly to the bedroom and take turns getting each other off with their hands. They haven’t often been intimate with such haste, and there’s a certain thrill to it that Anthony enjoys, especially when Azi cries out and then laughs as he comes.

Afterward, Azi takes Anthony’s face in his hands and kisses him once more, for a long while, before he lets go and reluctantly stands to get dressed. Anthony just lies in bed watching him, and when Azi turns back, he gives him a look.

“You’re certainly not making it easy to leave,” he playfully scolds, “lying there looking like _that_.”

“Sorry.” Anthony laughs and stands, moving to embrace him. “It was really nice to see you.”

“Likewise.”

Another long kiss follows.

After Azi has gone again, Anthony realizes this is the most he’s ever felt like he and Azi are an average couple. This is what their lives could be like, one day, when they can live wherever they want and their greatest concern will be wishing for longer lunch breaks. And that is a very nice thought.

***


	12. Zion

The following week, when Anthony needs to work again, he heads back to the lizard lounge, figuring he’ll give it another go like Azi suggested. Since he arrives earlier than last time, he finds the other people for hire—a few he recognizes—standing in a line out, facing the building, and he gathers that they’re waiting for clients.

It takes him a moment to spot Anathema, since she’s wearing a pink bobbed wig this time.

“Hello again,” he says, stepping up beside her.

“Hi,” she says with a smile. “Didn’t know if I’d see you out here again.”

“First time wasn’t so bad.” He shrugs, and she laughs.

A lizard approaches and starts sizing up the selection from afar, prompting a few people to wave and offer coy hellos. The lizard steps up to a short woman with blue hair in long pigtails, whom Anthony bleately recognizes from last time, and after she’s paid, she jumps up and down, squealing and clapping as she receives her collar. The lizard looks pleased.

“She sure knows how to put on a show,” Anthony remarks.

Anathema just smiles. “Hey, listen.”

Anthony meets her gaze.

“If you’re going to be a regular here, you need to change up your look—hair color maybe, and different styles of outfits. They can’t recognize our faces, but they’ll remember the details. They want to see something new.”

“Good advice,” Anthony says, nodding. “Thanks. Anything else?”

“Just … try not to look bored or scared. They’ll tip better if you seem happy about everything.”

Anthony nods again. “Interesting.”

Just then, another lizard approaches Anathema and she snaps her attention to them, gasping in faux-surprise. As she’s led away by leash, she gives Anthony a wink.

“See you in there.”

He’s reassured by her confidence that he’ll be chosen again, and sure enough, a lizard eventually chooses him and submits payment—nearly four times the amount Anthony would’ve made from one client back on Eden.

So _that_ makes it pretty easy to act happy as he’s leashed up.

The progression of the night is essentially the same, with his client—this one shorter and more slender than the one before—leading him through the crowd to show off while all the others coo and pet him. This time, he can see the other humans getting the same treatment throughout the club, with some perched in their client’s laps or joining them in the steaming lounge pools to be further doted on. A few lizards offer Anthony drinks from small cups or little treats that turn out to be a popular type of human candy, which he feigns gratefulness for, trying to turn off the part of his brain that is still weirded out.

Eventually, the lizards start leading their humans to the cages, and this time he’s shut in next to the short woman with blue hair who is the best actor of the bunch. When she turns and recognizes him, she gives him an open-mouth smile and waves with both hands. He waves back.

The rest goes pretty much how he expects, with the drinks poured over the cages, and when he’s led to a private booth and tipped at 15%, he manages a little happy dance that would honestly be blackmail material if anyone recorded it. Stars, hopefully no one is _filming_ any of this, he thinks as he’s once again slurped to oblivion.

When the group is back outside, the short woman finds him first. Her blue bangs, saturated with spit, are plastered to her forehead.

“Hey! You came back!”

“Hey! Yeah, I did.”

“They had _good_ candy tonight,” she says dreamily. “Are you coming with us to Zion this time?”

Just then, a few others join them.

“Ah shit yeah, Zion,” one of them adds.

“Hey, Juniper,” she responds to that person, who is wearing a fuzzy orange leotard and white combat boots. “You look cute in that.”

Belatedly, Anthony realizes Anathema is standing beside him and nods in greeting at her.

“So, you coming?” she asks.

“Sure,” Anthony says. “Why not?”

The short woman and a few others cheer out loud at his response, and he has to laugh at their enthusiasm for a near-stranger coming along.

The group boards a train together, and on the ride, most of them indulge in the orange pills again. Aside from himself, Anathema is the only one who declines. He can tell she wants to stay on alert, perhaps feeling a bit protective of the others.

“What are those, anyway?” Anthony asks as Sholey—the short woman’s name, he now knows—puts away the pill pack.

“Pure joy,” she says, and as the train passes through a dark tunnel, Anthony can see that her pupils—and the pupils of everyone else who took pills—are glowing blue.

“Sholey, how many did you take?” Anathema asks.

“Who knows!” she says, throwing out her arms and leaving them there.

“Just be careful on the dance floor, okay?”

In reply, Sholey drops her arms and hugs Anathema in the process. “Yes, mother.”

As they reach their stop, Juniper, who has been mostly quiet, steps up beside Anthony.

“Just so you know, don’t tell anyone in there that you’re a pet. Lots of people don’t react well.”

“A … pet?”

“Well yeah,” they answer, brows furrowed. “What else would you call it?”

Departing the train, the group only has to walk across the street to enter Zion, and once they’re inside, Anthony cannot believe his eyes.

“Holy fucking stars.”

The room itself might be the largest one he’s ever seen, and “the dance floor” is actually five different sections across multiple levels. The massive crowd is visible in flashes, as various sets of lights strobe with the beat. On the full back wall of the club is a massive projection of Freyja, the orangey brown gas giant that Balthazar orbits, and all around the room are various colorful holograms that shift and move to the music. It’s enough sensory overload that, for several minutes, Anthony forgets how to do anything other than stare.

Most of the group eagerly hurries to join the throng, while Anthony and Anathema are the only two who stand back to observe the spectacle from afar.

“I’m going over there, if you want to join,” Anathema says, gesturing to a plush lounge area that looks far more like Anthony’s scene.

Seated on a fancy sofa moments later, servers are already offering them drinks from trays, and Anathema takes one in a tall glass with blue liquid, giving off orange smoke. Anthony decides to try one, too, and finds it citrus-like with fizz and a spicy finish.

“So, how do those lizards have so much money, anyway?” he asks.

She smiles as she swallows a sip of her drink. “Most of them are very wealthy, yeah. High-ranking officials and celebrities in their culture. It’s a big status thing that they can afford us, and that we’re willing to go along with it. Balthazar is pretty much the only place they’re getting away with a club like that.”

Anthony nods. “Are you from here?”

She shakes her head. “I finished my master’s degree at Nutter University on Alviss and decided to celebrate by getting out of my comfort zone. I ended up here, and I’m getting a good savings going, so I’m staying a while. You?”

“I was on Eden before for a few years, but I … needed a change of scenery. My boyfriend and I just moved here last week.”

“Boyfriend, huh?” she asks, and he can tell she’s buzzed now. “Does he know about … ?”

“Oh yeah, he knows,” he says, nodding.

“You could invite him out here.”

“Oh, no, he’s got an early morning. He’s a doctor.”

“Wow,” she says, blowing out orange smoke from her last sip. “Groovy.”

In fact, thinking about Azi lying in bed alone in his soft pajamas evokes an odd emotion. All of the sudden, Anthony doesn’t much want to be sitting on this sofa in this noisy club full of intoxicated people when he could be cuddled up next to him.

“Are you alright if I head out?” he asks, setting his drink aside.

Anathema nods. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna go next door for a massage.”

She gestures behind him, and he turns to see the entrance to a large hallway.

“The whole block is connected.”

“Good call,” he says. “Have a nice night.”

“You too,” she says, smiling. “See you next time.”

Back on the train, he’s glad to be out of the club. He might have enjoyed a place like that when he was younger—maybe—but the novelty is long gone, now. And, even though he had Azi’s blessing to go out and party, he’s feeling weirdly guilty now that he’s stayed out so late.

Getting back to their flat takes less time than he anticipates since traveling around the station is so efficient, and he comes home to an empty living room for the first time. He attempts to shower as quickly as possible, knowing Azi has probably heard him anyway, and then robes up and climbs into bed beside him in the dark bedroom.

“Hi,” Azi says softly, pulling him into his arms. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah,” Anthony says, curling into him. “Glad to be back.”

It’s not long before Azi’s alarm wakes them up, and Anthony gets up with him to fix breakfast. As he’s preparing the food, Azi’s arms find their way around his waist from behind.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Of course.” Anthony swivels around to face and kiss him.

“You must be tired,” Azi adds, sympathetic.

Anthony shrugs. “I wanted to see you. I missed you last night.”

They kiss again.

“How was the club?”

“Oh, stars, it was _absurd_. I don’t even know how to explain it.”

Azi laughs at that. “Sounds memorable, at least!”

“Hey,” Anthony says, reaching out to touch his cheek. “I won’t be out that long all the time.”

Azi blinks at that. “But you said you had fun, right?”

“Yeah, I mean, it was certainly a sight to see. Not really my scene, though.”

“Well, I’m glad for your little adventure. Maybe eventually you’ll find something here you _do_ like.”

“Maybe,” Anthony allows.

After they eat, Azi is off to work, so Anthony falls back into bed, sleeping well past midday.

***

When he wakes, he stands up and stretches, reflecting on how nice it is to not be in pain after a work night. He then takes up his comm and submits his payment, watching as the module blinks and recalculates his remaining debt.

Setting it aside, he sighs, feeling a bit foolish for staying on Eden so long, when he can clearly make money much more easily here. Of course, he’d had no idea what to expect before they arrived, but he shouldn’t have dragged it out so long. With the benefit of hindsight, it's clear that he shouldn’t have put poor Azi—or his own body—through those last few months.

Passing by their unused treatment room on the way to the loo, Anthony feels a ridiculous tug of nostalgia for the way Azi used to look after him. It was how they met, after all, and anytime Anthony had returned with even the slightest injury, Azi had naturally fallen into his nurturing role, keeping him calm and comfortable while he tended to him. Perhaps Azi misses the emotional aspects of that care, in some way, too. He’d certainly never say so.

That gives Anthony an idea, so he gets dressed and heads out for some shopping.

***

By the time Azi is home from work, Anthony has dinner ready, and while they eat, he tells him about Zion, as best as he can describe it.

“It sounds like you _did_ enjoy it,” Azi remarks just after.

Anthony shrugs. “It’s the kind of thing that’s worth seeing once.”

Afterward, when they’ve cleared the table, Azi presses a kiss to Anthony’s neck and then seems to examine the spot.

“Are you sore at all? From the collar?”

Completely by accident, he’s given Anthony the perfect segue into his next request.

“Not there. But my back and shoulders are actually a little tight, I noticed. I was actually going to ask if maybe you could massage it—”

“Oh, of course!” Azi says, with palpable delight. “Come lie down.”

Moments later, Anthony is lying face down on the treatment bed, and Azi’s hands are gliding across his skin, rubbing and pressing—making good use of a nice lotion Anthony picked up at the market.

“You _do_ have knots,” Azi remarks. “I’m sorry we’ve never done this before.”

Anthony is already so blissed out that it takes him a moment to process the words, melting into the bed at Azi’s touch.

“If I had known you were so good at it,” he mumbles.

Azi chuckles at that. “I’m glad you think so.”

His touch is gentle but firm, finding each tight spot and rubbing into the tension in a deeply pleasant way, traveling first across Anthony’s back and then up to his neck and down each arm. By the time he’s paused to clean his hands, Anthony can’t quite remember his own name.

He returns shortly, and Anthony feels him let down his hair, raking through it with his fingers and then moving to lightly massage his scalp with a small circular motion. It feels so ridiculously nice that Anthony nearly laughs, suppressing it lest Azi think anything tickles.

“Your hair is so uniquely gorgeous,” Azi remarks, gently returning it to the bun Anthony had before.

“It matches my mother’s,” Anthony says, rolling over to look at him. “Thank you. That was honestly amazing. Have you been trained in that?”

“Actually, yes, briefly,” Azi says, sitting on the bed beside him. “I took a massage therapy course while I was in university, merely out of curiosity. Which honestly makes me all the more regretful that it never dawned on me to offer you this. It’s just been a long time.”

Anthony shrugs. “I’d like to offer to return the favor, but I do doubt that I can manage anything that nice.”

“Oh,” Azi says with a hand-wave. “I’m afraid my body isn’t as receptive to the technique, anyway. I do like it when you run your fingers over my back, though. That’s very nice.”

The very mention of that action, which Anthony has usually done after making love, stirs some embers of desire in him. He sits up to pull Azi into a kiss, which swiftly gives way to a tight embrace.

“I love you,” Azi says softly. “I’m glad you asked me for this.”

“I love you, too,” Anthony says, running his fingertips over Azi’s back within the hug and hearing him sigh. “More than anything.”

***


End file.
